


Waiting To Be Found

by Cottonstones



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bed & Breakfast, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Game Grumps Big Bang, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vacation, ggbb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross, the show-runner for the wildly popular cartoon Gameoverse is beginning to crack under the pressure of creating the second season of his show. When his best friend and co-worker Arin suggests a vacation it sounds like just the thing Ross needs to unwind. Ross finds himself at a bed and breakfast in a sleepy Oregon town run by best friends Suzy and Vernon. Ross also meets the bed and breakfast's handsome handyman Barry, and for Ross, what starts as a simple vacation turns into more than he could have ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting To Be Found

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a part of the Game Grumps Big Bang (GGBB) challenge on tumblr! I'm so happy to have this story be finished! Big thanks to my beta Sarah for reading over this monster, and to Tori for letting me show her the fic every step of the way and giving me lots of much needed feedback.

“You’re going to call when you land, right?” Arin asks. He’s got his “concerned mom” face on, and Ross almost wants to roll his eyes at his apprehension.

“Yes, _Mom_ ,” he says. Arin huffs out a laugh. “I trust that you and Dan won’t burn the studio to the ground while I’m gone?” he adds, checking his plane ticket for the hundredth time that day to confirm that he has the right time for his flight.

“No promises,” Arin says at the same time that Dan wanders back from one of the restaurants inside of the airport.

“What promises?” Dan asks, taking a bite of the soft pretzel in his hand before handing it to Arin.

Arin narrows his eyes at the offending bite mark but accepts the pretzel, anyway. “Ross wants us to keep shit going at the studio while he’s gone.”

“Oh!” Dan says brightly. “Nope, we definitely can’t do that.”

Ross sighs. He knows that Dan and Arin are fucking with him and that their studio is in Arin’s capable hands. Ross can trust him. They’ve certainly been working together long enough that Arin knows the ins and outs. Still, it’s hard for Ross to give up control; this is definitely a big step that he’s taking by leaving.

Arin can sense Ross’s hesitation, and his face softens. “Ross, it’ll be fine. Listen, if you stay here, then you’re just going to keep stressing yourself out. Try to remember why you booked this vacation. You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

Arin’s right. He’s about to leave on a vacation to Oregon - more specifically, a tiny town named Joseph. Oregon isn’t too far from his home state of California. It’s close enough that Ross feels like, if he needs to come back in a rush, then he’ll be able to, but it’s far enough that he’ll hopefully be able to clear his mind and achieve the relaxation that he knows that he needs.

The overhead speaker _ding_ s around them and a sweet voice calls for Ross’s gate to begin boarding the plane. He grabs his carry-on bag, looping the thick strap over his shoulder, and smiles at his friends.

Arin swoops in and gives Ross a firm squeeze, patting his back. “Don’t go looking up work stuff,” he says before pulling away.

Ross nods, but he already knows that that’s a promise that he can’t make.

Dan gives Ross a hug, too, ruffling Ross’s hair as he pulls away. “Just come back to us in one piece, okay?”

Ross gives Dan a two-fingered salute that turns into a wave as he heads toward his gate to board the plane.

\--

Twenty minutes later, Ross is secure in his seat on the plane, his bag tucked into the overhead compartment. Already, he feels a sense of calm beginning to fill him, though, as is usual for him, he’s growing bored and restless quickly. The plane has WiFi, and it’s far too easy for Ross to get out his phone and open Tumblr.

He knows that he shouldn’t, but he can’t help but search _Gameoverse_. He sighs, already having broken his promise to Arin. He’s not supposed to be doing work, he’s on vacation, but he can’t help but check out what people are saying about the show, _his_ show.

He’s the creator and show runner of the wildly popular cartoon Gameoverse. It’s his first show, his baby. He still doesn’t understand how everything happened - one second, he was carefully animating the pilot episode, then, against all odds, the show got picked up. He hadn’t wanted to deal with networks, not at first, but when streaming services weren’t interested, he shopped it around to popular networks. Surprisingly, he got picked up by Cartoon Network.

This is Ross’s first show, his first time being in charge of something that he created. He had had every chance to fail, for his show to bomb, to be cancelled before it even really began. He remembers waiting for the ratings to come in, dread and excitement mixing in his stomach, practically shaking at his desk. The show had done well - better than that, really; with each episode, it only picked up momentum, cultivating a huge online fan base, one that Ross never could have anticipated.

The first season is over, though, and now the pressure is on to start the second season. He can’t help but interact with his fans, check out what people are saying on Tumblr or Twitter. Along with the praise is a chorus of voices and opinions that say that he can’t possibly make the second season live up to the first. There are critics saying that he’ll flame out, that the show can’t carry on.

Eventually, the stress had caught up to Ross - the burden of trying to plot out the second season, the pressure of trying to please his old fans and draw in new fans at the same time… It’d become too much to handle, and Arin could see Ross beginning to crack under the weight of it. It was Arin who suggested the vacation in the first place.

Arin works on the show, as well, hand-picked to be the executive producer and Ross’s right hand man. Ross knows deep down inside that he can depend on Arin with his life. Dan works on the show, too, but as the voice of one of the characters. The show is how Arin and Dan met and began doing what closely resembles dating, even if neither of them will directly label their relationship.

The first post in the Gameoverse tag is a positive one, lots of fan art included in it, and Ross smiles. He always loves seeing what the fans create.

The next post is a negative one. It says that Ross is a shitty show runner and proclaims all of the ways that he’s “slowly killing the show.”

Ross sighs, closing the app and resting his head back against the seat. He’s under a lot of pressure - from the network, from the fans, from himself. He just needs an escape. Honestly, it’d gotten so bad that Ross had just ended up typing _secluded vacation spots_ into Google and sifting through the results.

That search had led Ross to book a room at a bed and breakfast in a small Oregon town. The web site for the town promised forests, wilderness, nature, and, most importantly, seclusion.

Ross just hopes that at least one of those will help him take his mind off of work.

\--

Ross’s cab rumbles to a stop in front of a cheery, pale yellow building that looks a little bigger than a normal two-story house, like it’d been converted and remodeled. The bed and breakfast is tucked in a small clearing that’s part of a larger forested area. There are trees here, tall, fresh, green pines that soar up into the sky…more trees than Ross has seen in quite a while.

The air is light and pleasant as he sucks in a deep breath, his cabbie handing him his baggage out of the trunk. He pays his driver and he pulls off, leaving Ross standing there alone. The world is quiet around him now that the cab has taken off, disappearing back up the winding, dirt-packed trail that jutted off from the main road.

Ross stands there for a moment and drinks in the sound of birds chirping off in the distance, the quiet babble of water from some unseen stream. He lets his eyes open and smiles, feeling substantially better already.

He drags his luggage up the wide wooden stairs that lead up to a long porch. The porch is decorated with rocking chairs, bales of hay, a wooden swing suspended at the far end. The outside of the bed and breakfast looks like it was pulled out of a country magazine. He goes to grab the door handle, but before he can get a hand on it, the door swings open for him, and then Ross is face-to-face with a man.

He’s taller than Ross, towering over him a little, but he smiles broadly. He’s got the kind of smile that puts you at ease, and Ross can’t help but smile back. He adjusts the soft, yellow sunhat that he’s wearing and moves to grab the bag dangling off of Ross’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even hear the cab! Let me help you!” he says in a voice that’s light and kind.

“Oh, it’s fine! I just got here,” Ross says, letting him take his bag.

The man moves out of the doorway, grinning big. “Come on in,” he says, waving Ross inside.

Ross listens and steps into the front room of the bed and breakfast. The man who greeted Ross shoulders his bag and then offers Ross his hand. “I’m Vernon. Nice to meet you. I’m one of the co-owners of this establishment.”

“I’m Ross,” Ross says, smiling.

“Oh!” Vernon’s face brightens. “You’re Mr. O’Donovan, right? We were waiting for you.”

Ross gives Vernon a once-over. He’s got short, dark hair, styled slick to the side, thick glasses that are reflecting the light from the small lamp near the door. He’s wearing the aforementioned sunhat as well as a white button-down patterned with dusty pink roses and dark jeans.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Ross says.

“Let me just check you in,” Vernon says. He sets Ross’s bag down and goes to the right of the front door where a large, half-circle wooden desk sits. On top of the desk is an old landline phone that Ross has a feeling is more for decoration than for actual use. There’s another lamp as well as a few odds and ends, including a thick book that Vernon flips a few pages in before he picks up a pen and jots something down.

As Vernon checks him into the bed and breakfast, he takes a moment to glance around the front room. The floor is dark wood, scuffed slightly from wear and tear. The walls in this room are wood, too, but thicker, logs stacked against each other to create texture. There are old pictures hanging up on nearly all available wall space, a huge mount of a bear tucked into the far left corner. There are a couple of arm chairs propped up near the bear and a deep red rug set to the right of those. The front room looks cozy, more like something out of a ski lodge than the interior of a bed and breakfast, but Ross likes it.

“There,” Vernon says as he crosses back around the desk and picks up Ross’s luggage once again. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Vernon reaches out and offers Ross a key, the simple metal attached to a thick, white card bearing the gold-painted number ‘3’ on it. Ross nods, thumb sliding over the number as he follows Vernon past the desk toward the back of the room where a small and simple staircase pops up.

Ross and Vernon take the stairs to the next floor, this one for the guests, judging by the row of deep green doors all bearing gold numbers to match the ones painted on the key cards.

“We do group meals,” Vernon says. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You can order food at other times, but it might cost you a little extra.”

He leads Ross down the hall until they arrive at Room three and he stops, apparently waiting for Ross to unlock the door.

Ross fumbles with the key but quickly gets the door unlocked and pushes it open. Vernon doesn’t move, so Ross takes the lead, slipping into his sunlight-filled room, Vernon following after.

“You got your own shower and toilet attached to the room,” Vernon says as he sets Ross’s bag down on the floor. He points at a secondary door in the room to the right of the main door. “House keeping will come through at least once a day. There’s a plaque that you can hang out there if you don’t want it. We have some books downstairs, as well as puzzles and other relaxing activities, and if outdoors is more your jam, we do have a pamphlet on the trails around the woods and what events we offer.”

Ross nods, not too keen on socializing at the moment, the flight having drained him of energy, coupled with his urge to spend some time alone and clear his mind. “Thanks,” he manages to say.

Vernon nods. “No problem. Dinner is at six, but if you’re hungry before that, just let me know!”

“I think that I’ll be okay,” Ross says. “Thank you, though.”

Vernon nods. “Hey, no trouble, man. We’re here to make your life easier. Hopefully, we’ll see you at dinner. You can meet Suzy!”

Ross sets down his bag next to where Vernon had set his first one and Vernon throws Ross a wave as he heads out the door, leaving Ross alone. Ross sighs, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket and collapsing back onto his bed, toeing off his shoes. He opens up to Arin’s name in his phone and taps the _call_ button.

His phone rings for all of one second before it beeps in distress, and Ross pulls back to see his phone blinking _disconnected_ at him.

“What?” Ross asks aloud before he sees that his phone is getting next to no service right now.

Well, great. He wanted seclusion, wanted to get back to nature, but he thought that a little bit of technology would be included.

He lets his eyes fall closed, intent on napping, and then maybe he’d be up in time to join everyone for dinner like Vernon had suggested.

\--

A few hours later, Ross is pulled from his blissful nap by a dull thudding sound. His brow crinkles in confusion as he wakes up. What’s that noise? It’s loud but rhythmic, repeating in a pattern. Slowly, as Ross comes back to his senses, he realizes that it sounds like wood being cut, the repeating _thunk_ of a heavy tool splitting thick logs.

Ross grumbles as he pulls himself out of bed, padding across the sizeable room and over to the window on the far left wall. He peels back the gauzy white curtains and peeks out the window.

He loses his breath for a moment, the view from his room surprising him. It must face the back of the building because, looking out, he can see nothing but greenery, tall trees, and beyond that. a rolling hill that has a dirt-packed path cut into it.

“Whoa,” Ross says quietly, taken aback by the view. He isn’t used to land like this, to scenery like this, huge and sprawling. He’s used to concrete and buildings taller than trees.

The thudding noise starts up again and Ross glances around, trying to see if he can spot whoever is making the sound. He can’t. Wherever the woodcutter - maybe Vernon? - is, they’re out of Ross’s sight but not far enough away that Ross can’t hear them.

Ross goes back to his bed and scoops up his phone, checking the time. It’s almost dinner according the schedule for the bed and breakfast, and Ross thinks that he might as well go down and eat with the group. He’s not always big on socializing with strangers, but he doesn’t want to spend all of his time cooped up in his room, either.

He exits the room, tucking his key card into the pocket of his hoodie. The upstairs of the bed and breakfast houses the guest rooms, but Ross notices that there’s something like a sun room or a sitting area off to the right, a single white plush rug and chair settled there next to a book shelf, a window perched high above the area letting soft golden light seep inside.

From up here, Ross can hear the muffled clatter of movement from down below, and he takes the stairs that lead back to the main area where he had checked in. The front room is empty and still, and Ross follows the sound of voices, drifting through the arched doorway to the left of the front door, almost directly across from the mounted bear.

The passage opens up to a spacious dining room, the floor the same wood as the main room, the walls painted a soft gray. There are old photographs hung up on the walls along with what look like boards of framed and pinned bugs, huge butterflies in a variety of colors, small dark beetles, some posed mid-flight.

In the center of the room is a long black table adorned with a soft blue table cloth. It must be close to dinner because the table is already set with plates and cups, and silverware. There’s a closed, hinged door to the left of the table, and to the right is another door, green like the ones from upstairs.

The place is definitely larger than Ross had given it credit for. It’s well-decorated, too, well-maintained. Honestly, when he had booked a room here, he was expecting some cheesy little run-down ma and pa operation, not something that felt clean and modern like this place.

The hinged door to the left swings open and in comes Vernon, carrying a big metal tray. His eyes brighten as he spots Ross standing there. “Hey! You made it!” he says cheerfully, grinning at Ross.

Ross nods, returning the smile. “I did, but it looks like I’m early. Can I help or -”

“Nonsense,” Vernon says, waving a hand at Ross as he sets the tray on the table. “You’re our guest here. You’re a little early, yeah, but it’s fine. Dinner’s almost ready and the other visitors should be here soon. You can have a seat if you like.”

Ross nods again and sits at the far end of the table. He pulls out his phone once more, anticipating a missed call from Arin. He’s probably freaking out because Ross fell asleep and hadn’t actually gotten ahold of him yet. The service downstairs isn’t great, but it’s strong enough that Ross’s phone can actually make the call instead of hanging up.

“Hello?” Arin asks.

“Hey, man!” Ross says, and even though he’d only just left, it’s nice to hear Arin’s voice.

“Ross?” Arin asks. “I can barely hear you, man.”

“Oh, really? I’m, uh…the signal strength here sucks. I think it’s all of the trees. I don’t even get service in my room.”

“What?” Arin asks. “You don’t like your room?”

Ross sighs. “No! No, I don’t get _service_ in my room.”

Arin might speak, maybe, Ross isn’t sure because the line crackles so bad that it distorts whatever Arin has to say.

“Listen,” Ross says, raising his voice a little, hoping that Arin can hear him, “I just wanted you to know that I made it here safely. I’ll call you later.”

There’s another crackle in response and then the line disconnects just as it had done upstairs. Ross sighs. It’s a good thing that this is a vacation from work because, at this rate, he wouldn’t be able to get anything done even if he wanted to.

Before Ross can complain, the door swings open again, and instead of Vernon, a woman comes striding out from what must be the kitchen, carrying a black pot full of delicious-smelling food. She spots Ross instantly and smiles at him as she sets the pot down in the center of the table.

“Hello,” she says, her voice soft but no less kind than Vernon’s had been. “You must be our new guest, Ross?”

Ross nods. “Yeah, hi, I…uh, I just got in a few hours ago.”

The woman nods, wiping her hands on the deep green apron she’s got wrapped around her waist before she walks to Ross and offers him her hand. “Yeah, Vernon told me that you’d arrived. I’m Suzy. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Ross says.

So this is the other owner of the bed and breakfast. She’s younger than Ross had been picturing - fuck, she might even be younger than him, though not by much. Where Vernon had looked more soft, Suzy looks quite the opposite. The first thing that Ross notices are her eyes, striking green and rimmed with dramatic winged eyeliner. She’s got jet black hair with just one blonde streak colored into it - Ross wonders if that sort of thing is the trend because Arin’s got the same thing.

She seems to favor the color black, as the dress that she’s wearing - knee length, sleeveless – is as black as night. When Suzy pulls back from shaking his hand, Ross can see that her right arm is covered in tattoos, intricate designs and shapes. There’s little doubt in Ross’s mind that Suzy is the one responsible for the majority of the decorations in the building. Still, for how dark Suzy seems, her smile is bright and happy.

“We’re glad that you could join us,” Suzy says. “I always like getting to know our guests.”

Ross nods. “Dinner smells fantastic.”

Suzy grabs at the end of her dress, doing a little curtsey. “Why, thank you! We do have another chef - his name is Jack - but he’s got the day off today, so it’s all me.”

There’s the distant sound of footsteps overhead, and Ross glances up. He must be hearing other guests as they make their way down for dinner; apparently, they’re already used to the meal schedule.

“I’d better go get the last of it,” Suzy says, jerking her thumb back toward the door.

Ross waves her on, and she flashes him a smile as she hurries back into the kitchen, pushing through the hinged door.

Slowly, the other guests make their way to the table to join Ross for dinner. There’s a freshly married couple here in Oregon for their honeymoon, an older balding man decked out in a suit, reminding Ross of the uptight stiffs who he works for back at the network. There’s also an older woman, her white hair in a bun, dressed like she just got back from the gym. She smiles sweetly at Ross as she sits down at his right.

They exchange names, professions, reasons for being at the B&B, all of the basic info that you need to know about a person who you don’t really intend to know for too long. The older woman’s name is Evelyn and she’s in the middle of training for a triathlon. Ross knows this because she goes into great detail about her workout regime.

Ross keeps his own details bare, calls himself an animator from California, here for a little breather. The others nod, don’t press for too many details, and Ross is grateful for it.

Shortly after, dinner begins, all of the pieces out on the table and Vernon and Suzy joining the group for the meal.

“Mac and cheese?” Ross asks as Suzy takes the lid off the giant pot.

Suzy nods, smiling. “It’s a custom here that we make the favorite meal of the newest guest. That would be you.”

“But how did you know?” Ross asks. God, how long has it been since he’s had homemade mac and cheese? He can’t even remember. More often than not, Ross’s schedule leaves him grabbing take-out whenever he can squeeze in a meal. Some nights, he’s so focused on work that he forgets to eat at all.

“There’s a box on the registration for the room,” Vernon says. “It asks for your favorite meal?”

Oh. Ross had filled that out, unsure of what it was for. “Good thing I didn’t bullshit my answer, then.”

The table laughs around him and Ross can feel himself relaxing, falling into easy conversation with the group.

\--

After seconds on dinner, Ross finds his way outside. He’d tried to stick around to help clean up, but Vernon and Suzy had waved him off, telling him to go enjoy himself. It turns out that the green door to the right of the dining table leads into a sun room, the walls glass that had been screened in so that you could enjoy the warmth of the sun without actually being outside. There’s a thin wooden and mesh door set into the wall that opens up to the back of the building, the backyard an expanse of rolling landscape.

The sun is just beginning to set as Ross makes his way outside, the sky around him a heavy orange. He’s enjoying the light breeze, the fresh air, but he’s also checking his phone to see if he gets better reception away from the building.

He walks through the green grass, dipping around trees, until he finds himself in front of a little lake. The water is still, but if he focuses, then he can see the surface rippling, tiny waves reaching out to him. The pond is dark and murky with the approaching night, but it’s also catching the barest hints of the dying sun, illuminating the water.

Ross holds up his phone, snapping a picture of the scene before him, and then gasps because he nearly has full bars at this location. He calls Arin again, trying to hurry and hoping that the signal will hold long enough. Miraculously, the line doesn’t crackle and the phone rings on the other end.

It rings and rings and rings and Ross sighs. Of course Arin isn’t going to pick up when Ross finally gets his phone working.

Eventually, Arin’s voice pops on, the familiar, “Hey, this is Arin, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you,” playing over the line.

“Hey, Arin, it’s Ross. I finally got my phone figured out, even if it means that I can only make phone calls at this stupid lake. My phone doesn’t work at the building too well, so if you really need me, text me and I’ll pray that I get it. Okay, bye.”

Ross hangs up. He goes to tuck his phone away, but the hesitation to check social media is too strong and he taps open the Twitter app to check his replies. His Twitter is full of questions about the show, fan art, rants, jokes, mindless tweets. and Ross feels the weariness creeping back in on him.

From deep in the woods in front of him, Ross hears a loud hooting noise and then the quieter sound of sticks breaking. He swallows down a bubble of nerves, telling himself that it’s just a rabbit or a squirrel or something. Definitely not anything big or scary, not anything that would want to eat him, right?

Night has fallen over the area, the sky an odd purple-blue, and Ross thinks that he’d better head back to the B&B before it gets too dark and he loses his way. As he glances over his shoulder at the thick smattering of woods behind him, he thinks that he sees a warm yellow light deep within the heart of the forest. Ross squints but can’t make it out.

Not wanting to stay out in the increasing darkness any longer, he reaches the safety of the sun room door and steps inside, the dining room quiet and empty as he makes his way back. He’s not sure where Suzy or Vernon or the other guests have gotten to. He doesn’t feel much like socializing anymore for the night, so he’s happy to head back upstairs to his room, unlocking the door, grabbing his laptop, and sighing as he settles on the bed.

He opens the internet and is promptly locked out by the WiFi code. He sighs. Of course. He glances around the room, like maybe the password is written down on a paper or a sign or something. His quick search finds nothing.

He slumps against the headboard and grabs the remote off the nightstand next to his bed and flicks on the TV, opening up a blank Word document on his laptop instead. He isn’t here to work, but who knows, maybe inspiration would strike?

\--

Ross wakes up the next morning bleary-eyed and much earlier than he’d wanted. Inspiration had never come to him the night before and he’d ended up playing Stardew Valley for far too long. He groans, pressing his face back into the pillow and willing himself to go back to sleep. What had even woken him up?

Then he hears it. The dull _thud_ , _thud_ , _thud_ that he had heard yesterday, the same droning sound that had woken him from his nap. The wood-cutting? Again?

Ross groans, slapping a hand over his ear and trying to fall back into the sweet hold of sleep. Even with his hand muffling the sound, Ross can still pick out the steady banging of the tool meeting wood. He lies there a little longer, holding on to the desire to go back to bed, but when he feels his stomach rumble with hunger, he gives up the hope of falling back asleep.

He checks the time on his phone as he rubs at his eyes. It’s noon, meaning that he likely missed breakfast and could very well be missing lunch. He yawns and goes to the bathroom before throwing on a pair of jeans and padding downstairs in his socks, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it.

He was right, lunch is already in process, but there’s a spot left for him. Suzy smiles at him, her long dark hair in a ponytail today.

Vernon is there, too, but he’s engaged in conversation with a guy about Ross’s age, someone who Ross hadn’t noticed the night before. The only available seat is next to Suzy. Ross doesn’t mind sitting by her. Hopefully, he smells alright.

Lunch is sandwiches. Ross picks one up off of the stack of them in front of him, setting it on his plate. Suzy passes him some vegetables and a bowl of what looks like fresh fruit, letting Ross pick what he wants. He’s finally feeling awake once he bites into a crisp red apple.

“So,” Suzy says, “I’m curious. What brings you to our little town?”

Ross wipes at his mouth with a napkin. “My job is pretty stressful,” he starts. “I was hoping to take a little breather. I’d never really been to the country and thought that maybe it’d be nice.”

“Do you like it so far?” Suzy asks.

Ross nods. “Oh, yeah, it’s a lot different than California.”

“California must be nice, though,” Suzy says. “Always warm, and the ocean is right there, and you probably see celebrities all the time.”

Ross shrugs. “It loses its charm fast. You’ve never been?”

Suzy shakes her head sadly. “I’ve never even left the state. I grew up just outside of town, met Vernon in high school, and then a while after graduation we opened this place together.”

“Are you two married?” Ross asks.

Suzy snorts. “Oh, man, no way. Vernon is my best friend and business partner. That’s all.”

Ross scratches at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry.” Suzy waves him off. “So was it always your dream to open a bed and breakfast?”

Suzy’s smile dims for a second; Ross catches just a glimpse of unease before her grin is back in place. “Not exactly. After high school, I went to taxidermy school. Unfortunately for me, there wasn’t a big market for it around here. I was broke and Vernon was fresh out of school, and his uncle had this beat-up old house that he was looking to get rid of. Vernon and I pooled our money together, bought it, and somehow managed to turn it into all of this,” she says, waving a hand around the interior of the dining room. “It definitely wasn’t easy - we almost closed down, like, three times that first year - but we managed thanks to the flood of tourists that pass through here.”

Ross nods, impressed by Suzy’s story. She and Vernon had apparently built this place themselves, turned it around, and had a successful business, successful enough to keep it running, at least.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“Thanks! Decoration is kinda my thing. The design and layout is more Vernon’s. We’re both business-minded, so it works out.”

Ross spends the rest of lunch chatting with Suzy. Once he finishes his meal, he’s about to head back upstairs when he spots one of the little pamphlets full of activities that Vernon had mentioned to him. Ross knows vacation is about trying new things, so he grabs the pamphlet and leafs through it.

Vernon spots him and smiles brightly. “Hey, looking for something fun to do?”

Ross shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose so?”

“You’re in luck. I happen to be getting ready to do one of my bike tours around the mountain trail. You should join in!”

“Oh,” Ross says, “I, uh…I don’t have a bike.”

Vernon’s grin widens. “I have some extras! Helmets and stuff, too. We’ll take it easy since you’re a beginner. What do you say?”

Ross can’t think of a good enough reason to say no to Vernon’s proposal. It’s hard to deny the chipper man when he’s standing there grinning at you with big, hopeful eyes. Besides, it probably isn’t healthy for him to spend his entire vacation locked up in his room, only venturing out for meals.

Ross nods, giving Vernon a smile, “Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

\--

That’s how Ross ends up spending a good portion of the afternoon riding Vernon’s loaner bike up the dirt-packed trail, the same one he can see jutting up the rolling green landscape from the view in his room.

Ross’s thighs burn, ache with resistance as he struggles to make it up the hill. Vernon had offered to go easy because Ross is new, but Ross had waved him off. He knew how to ride a bike and it certainly wasn’t rocket science.

This particular tour was just Vernon, Evelyn, and Ross. The much older woman was far ahead of Ross, taking the trail with ease, while Ross was wheezing, wobbling on the bike. Vernon circles back from his leader position and glances at Ross.

“You okay?” he asks.

Ross nods, sweat stinging his eyes. “I’m…f - fine.”

Vernon doesn’t seem convinced. “How about we take a break up here?” He nods to a clearing at the peak of their current hill and Ross nods back, ready for a breather. Vernon rides away from Ross and back up to Evelyn to inform her of their stop.

A few minutes later, they’re skidding to a stop against the dirt trail, Ross panting lightly as he lifts his water bottle from the holder attached to the bike.

He stares out at the land around him. They aren’t at the top of the hill, but they’re angled upward, giving Ross an elevated view of the land around him. He can see the same pond that he had stood by to call Arin the night before, and if he turns around, he can see the rooftop of the B&B, just barely cresting the top of the trees.

In front of him is more trail, more endless green trees. As Ross scans the forest around him, he stills. He thinks, maybe, deep within the cut of trees, he can see something that resembles a house. He squints, trying to suss out what exactly he’s seeing.

“Ross, you feeling good to go?” Vernon asks. “Evelyn is getting a little antsy.”

Ross nods, but his muscles feel weak. He doesn’t really do a ton of physical stuff back in California and this ride has taken more out of him than he’d expected. He glances back into the woods as he had done before, but either the light had shifted or Ross had been hallucinating because he can’t make out the shape of the small house anymore.

After the ride, Ross limps up the stairs to his room and takes a shower, collapsing into bed with his hair still damp and his pajamas just barely tugged on. His muscles ache, but he feels oddly accomplished, somehow lighter, his mind far too tired to worry about work.

Perfect.

\--

Ross grows accustomed to the schedule of the building quickly over the next couple of days. He learns the time of the meals, even making it for breakfast, much to everyone’s surprise. He walks nightly to the pond to call Arin or text Holly, she being the only other person besides Dan and Arin that knows how badly Ross had needed this trip. Ross even tries out a few more activities. As a counterpoint to Vernon’s guided bike tours, Suzy does walking tours along the trail and near the pond, pointing out interesting bugs and fish.

The only complaint - besides the lack of WiFi - is that goddamn infernal thumping noise courtesy the mystery wood-cutter. Almost every day, without fail, Ross is awoken by the sound of wood being cut, though he’s never actually seen anyone cutting wood. He’s seen the end result, a neat stack of dark brown and freshly cut logs stacked off to the side of the bed and breakfast. Ross knows he should probably mention it to Vernon or Suzy, but he doesn’t like to complain, and the two owners had been so kind to him so far, Ross figures he can live with one or two little annoyances.

Today, Ross is outside. The day is beautiful and warm with a slight breeze, and Ross is feeling motivated to try to sketch. He hasn’t drawn purely for fun in quite a while, and he’s hoping the beautiful scenery will inspire him.

Ross finds a big, plush chair at the far end of the left side of the porch. The roof of the porch hangs over him and shields the sun from his eyes so that he can scan the landscape without being blinded. He sighs, pencil at the ready, curling his legs under his body to support the thick, white sketchpad resting across his lap. He flits his gaze around the land, takes a deep relaxed breath, and lets his hand start moving across the white paper, making fine sketch marks. He’s not quite sure where he’s going with the drawing yet, but part of the fun is getting there.

Just when Ross is starting to get into the groove of his drawing, he hears it. _Thud_ , _thud_ , _thud_.

Ross jerks up, pencil slipping from his grip and clattering to the wood planks of the porch beneath him. The wood-cutter?

Again, the sound resonates, echoing louder because he’s actually outside. Ross grits his teeth. He can’t even draw in peace?

Ross stands, feeling suddenly wild with the urge to find out who is making that noise, to ask them to stop.

Ross sets his sketchbook down on his now-abandoned chair and races down the front steps of the porch, walking quickly around the right side of the house where he can hear the source of the noise coming from. Ross rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks.

He sees a man dressed in red plaid hefting an axe over his head, ready to strike at a thick piece of wood that is standing upright on a large stump. His back is to Ross, and Ross feels the light heat of anger pulse through him.

“ _You!_ ” Ross says louder than he’d meant to, and the man before him stops mid-swing, freezing before lowering his axe to the ground and turning around.

“Me?” he asks in a voice smooth and one softer than Ross had been anticipating.

The first thing Ross notes is that this man definitely isn’t Vernon. In fact, it’s someone he’s never seen before, not around the bed and breakfast or at any of the communal meals.

The man is short, but stocky, his body lightly muscled and neither extremely big or small. He’s average with a slight thickness. He’s got a head of dark hair and a full matching beard, and the lightest colored eyes - a mix between a pale blue and light green - that Ross has ever seen. His eyebrows are raised in surprise, giving him an almost comical look.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

Ross nods, some of the heat leaving him, but he can feel the frown tugging at his face. “You’re the one that cuts the wood around here?”

The man looks down at the axe in his hand and then up at Ross, one eyebrow still quirked. “Um, yes?”

“You’ve been so loud. You wake me up every day,” Ross says, sighing. “And now I was trying to sketch and you’re here being loud again.”

“Oh,” the man says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there was an issue. Usually, if a guest has a complaint, Vernon and Suzy will let me know.”

“Well,” Ross says, his tone deflating, “I…uh…hadn’t actually told them yet.”

The man hums. “Ah, saving it all for me?” He doesn’t seem angry, and his voice holds a light, amused tone more than anything else. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was being annoying. I’ll, uh, go and find something else to do, let you get back to your sketching.”

Ross nods. “Thanks.”

The man flashes Ross a quick smile that only seems a little forced before he sets his axe down to lean against the side of the building. Ross watches for a moment as the man removes the log he had nearly cut before Ross had interrupted him, setting it next to the axe. The man glances up at Ross, as if wondering why he were still watching or what he was waiting for, and Ross flushes a little, nodding once more and heading back around the house to reclaim his spot on the porch.

\--

Ross doesn’t see the mystery man for the rest of the day, and that night at dinner he’s nowhere to be found.

Tonight, Ross happens to be seated next to Vernon and one half of the married couple, sandwiched between them as they pass around the stew that Suzy had made.

“So, uh, Vernon?” Ross starts.

“Yeah?” Vernon asks, turning his attention toward Ross.

“I met someone today. He was, uh, I guess, your woodcutter or whatever?”

Vernon’s brows knit together for a moment, but across the table Suzy’s eyes flicker with light. “Oh, that’s Barry!” she says.

Barry? Okay, so mysterious woodcutter has a name and that name is Barry.

“Yeah, Barry keeps up on our wood pile for us. He also does some odd jobs around the building and the land. He’s our handyman, you could say,” Vernon says.

“How come he never eats meals here?” Ross asks.

Suzy fields this question, too. “Barry lives on the property in a little cottage that’s not too far out. He prefers to eat out there when we’re busy like now. When things are a little quieter, he hangs out here. I think that he feels like he’s intruding or that he’s not welcomed, but that’s not the case at all. Why do you ask? He wasn’t rude to you, was he?” Her face tugs into a frown.

“Oh! No, no, I just hadn’t met him until today. I guess that I was a little curious, is all,” Ross says with a shrug, deciding to omit the part where he maybe accidentally yelled at Barry for being too loud.

“Good to know. I’d be surprised. Barry is just about the nicest person around,” Vernon says.

Ross hums, feeling a pang of guilt. Apparently, he’d yelled at Suzy and Vernon’s friend, their friend who was notorious for being nice. Ross probably came off looking like an asshole.

After dinner, Ross goes up to his room and opens his sketchpad, which he’d left out on his bed when he went down for dinner. After Barry had wandered away, Ross was able to sketch in peace, and he’d ended up sketching the front view of the landscape from the porch, the edges of the clearing where ground gave way to trees, the slice of road that the cab driver had taken to the bed and breakfast, even the mailbox that jutted out from the earth in front of the building. It felt good to draw for no one but himself, to not worry what others might think of his creation.

\--

The next morning, Ross sleeps in because, to his surprise, there’s no constant thudding to wake him up. He smiles as he rolls around in bed, happy to have gotten an undisturbed rest and to have woken up naturally.

As he lies in bed, he hears his phone chirp with the sound of a received email. He sits up in surprise because, with the utter lack of service in his room, he hasn’t been getting notifications. Honestly, it’s been driving him a bit batty.

He grabs his phone and unlocks it. He does have an email - from Arin, the subject reading, _Need info about show - call me ASAP!_

Ross swears and jerks out of bed, tabbing over to his contacts and tapping Arin’s name. Of course, as fate would have it, the call drops before it even connects.

He groans and moves toward the window, propping it open as if that will increase his chances of the call going through. The phone rings once before the call is dropped, and Ross feels desperate and irritated.

He clicks on the email, hoping that maybe Arin elaborated inside so that Ross doesn’t feel so panicked, so that he’ll have some sense of what the call will be about.

Ross watches as his loading screen for his mail app spins endlessly before eventually popping up a _no connection detected_ at him.

“Fuck,” Ross says, and he hurriedly grabs a pair of jeans off of the floor, tugging them on and toeing on a pair of flip-flops, trying to casually hurry out the door and down the stairs without looking strange.

His only sure bet is the pond where he’d managed to get a signal before. He all but bursts through the front door of the bed and breakfast, breaking into a run as he sprints across the yard, trying to remember the way to the pond.

What could possibly be going on with the show? Ross fucking knew that he shouldn’t have left, that there were too many things that they needed him for, and now something has gone wrong. Shit, maybe they were, like, cancelled or something.

He finally makes it to the pond. He’s breathless and his legs are burning, but he made it. He doesn’t hesitate to click the call button, his breath tight in his throat. The phone rings and then, after the third ring, Ross hears Arin pick up. Ross’s breath rattles out of him in relief.

“Ross?” Arin asks.

“Yeah, man, I got your email. I -”

“Are you okay? You sound like shit.”

“That’s because I fucking ran my ass all of the way over to this fucking pond because this podunk little town has the worse signal that I’ve ever encountered in my entire life!” Ross says, his voice carrying over the water and echoing back at him. “You said to call you ASAP. What’s going on? Did something happen with the show?”

“Sorry if I scared you, man,” Arin says. “I mean, yeah, it’s important, but it’s not, like, flip your shit important.”

Ross pushes a hand through his hair. “Well, what is it, Arin?”

“The big-wigs upstairs are seeing our summer re-runs performing really well. They want to extend our second season by two or three more episodes!”

“What?” Ross asks, only just now beginning to catch his breath. That’s good news.

“Yeah, man! Pretty cool, right?” Arin certainly sounds happy, and Ross can picture him, grinning all big and wide.

“Right,” Ross says, almost weakly. He had been expecting terrible news, but this is good news. That being said, Ross is already struggling to come up with a solid plot for twenty episodes, now he’s got to add three more into the mix. It feels a little like he’s drowning and someone’s decided to hand him some weights to hold onto.

“You got this, Ross,” Arin says. “ _We_ got this.”

Ross nods, though Arin can’t see him. “Maybe. You think that I should cut the vacation short? Go back home and start working?”

“No,” Arin says firmly. “No, stay put and enjoy yourself and post some stupid vacation photos while you’re at it. Dan and I want to make sure that you’re having fun.”

“Didn’t you hear me about the lack of service out here?” Ross asks, amusement filling his voice. “It’s almost like the land that time forgot or something. I bet that no one here even has a smart phone let alone would know what to do with it.”

Arin snorts. “Alright, well, at least take pictures and show me them when you get back.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, lunch is here! I gotta go. I’ll try to text you later!”

“Okay. I probably won’t get it, but you can try,” Ross says, but he knows that he’s already lost Arin because he can hear Dan giggling in the background. He rolls his eyes and ends the call, relief flooding him but nerves filling him, a double-edged sword.

He turns around to head back to the bed and breakfast when, to his surprise, he sees Barry, the handyman standing just off to the side, watching Ross with a surprisingly intense look.

“Uh,” Ross says, “hi?” He hadn’t noticed Barry when he ran up here, hadn’t heard him approach.

Barry frowns in Ross’s direction, something that doesn’t fit his face at all. “I saw you running. You looked panicked, so I thought that something was wrong. I thought that I should come and check on you, make sure that you were okay.”

“Oh,” Ross says, “yeah, that. I, um, had an important email from work and -”

“Oh, I heard,” Barry says. “I also heard you talking crap about the bed and breakfast and our service.”

Ross’s face flushes. “I meant the cell phone service, not…I wasn’t trying to insult the place…”

“I know what you meant. You city people are all the same, only concerned about work and emails, Instagram and how fast you can post pictures of the sunset on Facebook.”

Ross’s mouth flattens. Suzy and Vernon had said that Barry was nice, but this conversation didn’t feel very nice.

Barry’s frown deepens, and his eyes hold traces of what looks like hurt. “What? Surprised that I even know what Facebook is? You know, with me being from this little podunk town and all.”

Ross feels a stab of guilt in his stomach, hot shame washing over him. So Barry had heard Ross’s insult. He had been teasing. Yes, it was kind of mean, but Ross hadn’t really meant anything by it. He and Arin were always ragging on stuff for laughs. The town was small and not very technologically advanced, and maybe Ross did think that it was strange and that some of the people around here were sort of odd, too happy, but he was enjoying his time here.

“That was -”

“Save it,” Barry says, raising a hand to silence Ross. “We might not be from a big city or have the newest or fanciest phones, but we’re not some backroad idiots, either.”

Ross nods, his face burning hot in embarrassment, but that embarrassment is mixing with anger. Barry was insulting Ross, too, saying that he only cared about technology, like the whole point of this trip wasn’t to get his mind off of shit.

“Just because you can live with technology doesn’t mean that the rest of the world is bad for needing it.”

Barry scoffs. “I see people here all of the time who’d rather spend their time looking at their phone than looking around them.”

“I’m not one of those people,” Ross argues - or tries to.

“The very first time that I saw you, you were standing right there, talking on the phone, and you were so engrossed in it that you didn’t even see me pass you by on my way home,” Barry says.

Ross’s eyes widen in surprise. The first night when he’d came out here at sunset? Barry had been out here, too? No, Ross hadn’t noticed him, it was dark, and yes, he was excited to actually get a hold of Arin -

“Hey,” Ross says, “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“You’re right, you don’t,” Barry says, his voice firm and a little cold. “I’ll leave you to your ‘work,’” He nods toward the phone still in Ross’s hand.

“Yeah, well, enjoy your technology-free cabin!” Ross half-shouts. “Have fun whittling some wood for entertainment!”

Barry ignores him, and Ross bristles. “What a dick,” he murmurs to himself, sighing as he watches Barry disappear into the entrance to the woods.

Maybe he had been a little harsh on the phone, and maybe he did unconsciously think that he was more advanced than this place and the people around him. He hadn’t meant to be mean or insult the bed and breakfast, though.

Ross sighs, a little bubble of unease in his chest, and opens his text messages, sending a text to Holly, the woman who he always turns to when he’s feeling especially bad, her cheery nature doing wonders to lift his spirit.

_Miss you, Holl._

Ross waits a few minutes, wishing for Holly to answer, but she might be busy with her birds or work. He suddenly feels open and vulnerable standing out here on his phone, like being here only proves Barry right, that Ross is too dependent on his phone for entertainment.

After seven minutes with no answer, Ross trudges back to the hotel, bypassing the sounds of the other guests and Suzy and Vernon having lunch. He instead chooses to go upstairs to his room, thinking that maybe he can start plotting out some of the story for the second season of Gameoverse.

\--

Ross wakes up the next morning to a quiet stillness. He had been half-expecting after his run-in with Barry to wake up to the same dull _thud_ of wood being chopped, but it seems that Barry had decided not to enact that punishment on Ross.

He’d been worried last night as he joined the guest and Suzy and Vernon for dinner that, sometime between their argument and dinner time, Barry had told Vernon and Suzy what Ross had said, how he’d insulted the town and the bed and breakfast. Ross doesn’t think that Barry had said anything, considering Suzy and Vernon are as sweet and hospitable as they ever are.

Ross hops in the shower feeling better than he had the day before. After coming back to his room, he had managed to jot down all of his ideas for the second season of the show, trying to arrange them into an arc and then going back and fleshing out the skeleton of the plot, adding more and more details.

Still, despite getting some work done, Ross still feels a little bad, his stomach twisting a bit when he thinks of what happened with Barry the day before. He doesn’t like conflict, and he’s here to relax, not make enemies with the employees.

After the shower and running a clean, fresh towel over his damp hair, Ross dresses and pads downstairs just in time for breakfast. Evelyn is always at breakfast, and lately she’s taken to asking Ross to sit with her. Each mealtime, Ross learns a little more about one of her grandkids. Today is no different, Evelyn patting the chair next to her and Ross giving her a polite smile as he sits down.

Vernon is also at the table, dishing waffles from a big tray to a couple of smaller plates. “Ah, ah, Evelyn, you can’t hog Ross all of the time.”

Evelyn winks at Vernon and laughs, and it takes all of the strength that Ross has not to roll his eyes.

Breakfast is the aforementioned waffles with syrup, fruit, and gratuitous amounts of milk. This might be the favorite part of his stay - the promise of three piping hot, homemade meals a day and all of the milk he can drink.

Over breakfast, Suzy clears her throat. “Oh, Ross, you left dinner a little early last night, so we didn’t get to tell you. Vernon and I are making our monthly ride to the next town over to pick up some things for the inn. We’ll be gone a few hours, so, if you need anything, then Barry will be around.”

Ross nods, but he internally flinches at the mention of Barry’s name. He’d considered saying something to Suzy and Vernon, maybe about feeling uncomfortable, but if he brings up what happened, then Barry could very well tell the two owners that Ross had been an asshole, too, and he’d hate to hurt their feelings or have them dislike him. Despite Ross being their customer, he has grown to like Suzy and Vernon in this short time already; he could see himself being friends with them under different circumstances. If they were in California, he might invite them out for noodles and karaoke.

“I think that I’ll manage,” Ross says.

Suzy smiles and offers him another waffle.

\--

A few hours later, Ross is upstairs, the window to his room open to let in the fresh air. The day is warm and breezy, and the urge to venture outside is increasing inside of Ross. He’d been working a little, despite promising Arin that he’d take it easy and focus on himself. He feels inspired for the first time in a long while, and he wants to take advantage of that, though the promise of a nice day and picturesque weather has Ross setting his laptop aside and grabbing his sneakers. It’s so nice out that Ross decides against his jacket, leaving it hanging on the back of the chair at the desk in the room.

The pamphlet that he’d grabbed from the lobby has a foldout section that labels the best walking trails in the area, categorizing them by level of difficulty. Ross remembers the one that Vernon had taken him riding on and decides that he could probably walk that one as long as he took his time and went at his own pace.

He grabs a bottle of water from the cooler on the porch where Suzy and Vernon keep them on-hand and pads toward the outer edge of the woods, pulling toward the left so that, instead of walking into the woods, he turns off onto a dirt-beaten path.

Ross walks the trail slowly, enjoying the day and the scenery. He’s enjoying it more now that he isn’t jostling around on Vernon’s loaner bike. The light wind ruffles his hair, brushes at his arms, and Ross lets his eyes close for a moment. He takes a deep breath and feels a wash of peace and relaxation move through him. This feeling is what he’s been after all along, what he’s been searching for.

Nearly an hour passes before Ross gets back to the bed and breakfast. The front of his shirt is damp with sweat and his legs ache, but he feels better, lighter, than he has in a long while. All that he wants to do is take a shower and lie in bed, zone out and watch TV. Climbing the stairs to his room is the last thing that Ross wants to do, and he groans as he hefts himself up the steps, padding down the hallway and to his room.

He sighs as he digs in his pocket, looking for his room key. His left pocket is empty, so Ross digs in his right…which is also empty. His heart jumps a little in his chest. He pats the back of his jeans but finds nothing. Did he lose his key on his walk? The thought of having to painstakingly scan the trail and the yard of the bed and breakfast sounds like torture.

Ross rests his forehead against the hard, green room door, then, as if his forehead touching the wood is acting like a conduit, he has a spark, an image of himself from the night before, stuffing his hotel key back into the pocket of his jacket. It’s been cool enough here so far that Ross hasn’t gone anywhere without it, today being the first day that it’s warm enough to just be in a t-shirt.

Ross groans at his own stupidity. He left the key inside the room. Surely, the bed and breakfast had to have a spare, right? There had to be extras lying around, but –

“Fuck,” Ross breathes into the wood of the door. Vernon and Suzy are on their shopping trip and won’t be back for a while. Ross’s stomach flops as he remembers their words.

“If you need anything, then Barry will be around.”

Well, Ross has all but blown that to shit. He and Barry didn’t exactly get off on the best foot and Ross, really, really doesn’t want to go to Barry about this. He sighs, weighing his options. Either he waits for Vernon and Suzy to come back and ask them about the key, or he man’s up and finds Barry somewhere on the grounds.

Ross pads downstairs, remembering that Suzy and Vernon had mentioned how the bed and breakfast had indoor activities, too. The living room area of the bed and breakfast is one that Ross doesn’t go to often. It’s a large, boxy room with a couch off to the right set close to a fireplace, three small, squashy arm chairs in a deep red velvet placed around it. The rest of the room is sparse in furniture except for small folding tables and metal chairs, a chess set, checkers, things that Ross has never had a whole lot of interest in. There are also two tall shelves full of books.

The room is currently empty, even of the other guests. Ross goes inside, anyway. He walks to one of the folding tables and picks up a boxed puzzle depicting a deep green and gray mountain. He sighs. There’s no way that he wants to spend his time waiting for Suzy and Vernon in here; he’d fall asleep the first second that he sat down. Still, he holds the puzzle like he’s weighing the option, like it isn’t just him trying to delay the fact that he has no clue what to do.

Ross sets the puzzle back down and moves back through the building until he’s at the front door. The day is still nice, though, now that afternoon is starting to give way to evening, and there’s the promise of a rich golden sunset evident across the endless sky above him, the temperature is beginning to dip.

Still, Ross, like an idiot, happened to fuck himself out his key and his jacket.

Ross plops down on the wide top step of the porch. The land around him is quiet, peaceful, and with the sun slanting down through the nearby trees, it looks like something pulled out of a painting. Well, things could be worse; he could have a shit view to be stuck staring at.

Ross is zoning out, chin in his hands, when suddenly he catches sight of plaid out of the corner of his eye. He perks up, his nerves jumping in his chest. When he turns his head, he can see Barry heading around the side of the house toward the backyard. Without really thinking about it, Ross hops up, quick to follow Barry around the side of the house.

When he rounds the corner, he spots Barry knelt down by the building, inspecting the faucet that’s attached to the siding, the hose once attached to it, lying on the ground near Barry’s knees.

“Um,” Ross says, his voice timider than he’d intended.

Barry looks up at the sound of Ross’s words and arches an eyebrow in surprise, pushing his compact form up into a standing position, wiping his palms off on his light jeans. “I haven’t chopped any wood today,” he says calmly, with just a hint of defensiveness.

Ross shakes his head. “No, I know…I, uh…I actually locked myself out of my room?” Ross says, feeling much stupider now that he’s saying it out loud, especially to Barry. The man gives Ross a mild look, like he doesn’t quite understand why this is his problem. Ross swears that he can feel his face growing hot with embarrassment.

“Suzy and Vernon had, um, mentioned to come to you with any issues while they were gone? Maybe…I’ll just go wait for them,” he adds, jerking his thumb back toward the direction that he came and taking a step back, away from Barry.

“They called me about twenty minutes ago, actually,” Barry says, his voice still calm, a smooth wave. “The store was having some issues, so they’ll be a couple of hours later than they’d thought.”

“Hours?” Ross asks, and he watches Barry nod. Shit. Well, a couple of hours isn’t too bad. Maybe Ross can catch a nap on the couch in the game room until they get back…

“So you need a spare key to your room, then?” Barry asks, pulling Ross away from his thoughts.

Ross flushes, but he nods. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Barry’s face is neutral. Ross can’t tell if he’s pissed or not, though. With how their last few meetings have gone, he’s guessing Barry isn’t too thrilled right about now.

“Alright, follow me,” Barry says, sliding in front of Ross and leading him back around the house and toward the front door of the building.

Ross follows along quietly, not willing to tempt fate when he’s so close to getting back into his room. He and Barry enter the foyer of the building and, with a level of familiarity, Barry slips behind the front desk, bending down out of Ross’s sight. Ross can hear the rattle of metal.

“You’re lucky,” Barry says, his voice muffled from under the desk but clearing as he stands back up, a brown key in hand, “that Suzy and Vernon remember to keep spares.”

Ross nods again. He’s lucky for a lot of things. The spare key, the fact that Barry is still willing to help him…

Barry moves back around to the front before he nods at the staircase, heading upstairs, Ross tagging along behind him. In a matter of seconds, they’re at Ross’s room, and Ross watches Barry unlock the solid green door that had separated Ross and his much-desired shower for over an hour now.

“There you go,” Barry says, pushing Ross’s door open for him as if to prove that he really did unlock it, or maybe to make sure that Ross didn’t instantly lock himself out again.

“Thanks,” Ross says, sliding pass Barry and into the doorframe. He’s about to go into his room and die of embarrassment, and then drag his ass into the shower, but he hesitates for a moment, fingers curling around the wood of the frame.

“Um, Barry?” Ross says.

Barry stops, turning around to look at Ross over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I…ah, I wanted to apologize? About the, um, other day at the pond? I was talking to my best friend and he and I have a weird sense of humor where we rag on each other. We’re kinda assholes to each other, I guess, but it wasn’t cool of me to diss the bed and breakfast. I actually really like it here…” Ross forces himself to stop before he starts rambling due to nerves. He sweats, waiting to see how Barry will react.

To Ross’s surprise, Barry smiles, something that’s small, a little turn to his mouth, making his eyes crinkle at the edges. “Assholes, huh?” he asks, his voice filled with amusement.

Ross shrugs, his own nervous smile playing at his mouth. He doesn’t like conflict and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his vacation on the bad side of the handyman, especially considering that he wields an axe most of the time.

“It’s fine. I get it,” Barry says. “I wanted to apologize to you, too. I know that I should’ve done it sooner. You’re a guest here and I shouldn’t have treated you that way. It was totally uncalled for.”

Ross waves a hand at Barry, but relief floods through him. “Nah, it’s fine. I was being a dick.”

“So we’re just a couple of dicks who met up at a pond?” Barry asks.

Ross laughs, small but real, and he sees a true smile ghost over Barry’s lips. Ross decides right then and there that he much prefers a semi-smiling Barry to a frowning or yelling Barry.

“Um, so, thanks again,” Ross says, patting his door frame.

As if Ross’s words jumpstart him, Barry nods, and he gives Ross a little salute, the spare key still hanging from his hand as he disappears down the hall. Ross lingers, listening to the thump of Barry’s feet on the stairs, and it isn’t until the sound is too faint for Ross to hear that he finally closes his door and slinks into his room to shower.

\--

The next day, Ross is back outside, taking in the warm weather. Today, he’s sitting in one of the plush armchairs that are settled on the end of the long porch. He’s attempting to sketch again, legs curled under him and his sketch pad settled across his lap. The sunlight is bright and golden as it plays across the grounds around him.

Ross had been hoping when he booked the trip that the change in scenery would inspire him. Right now, he’s fascinated by these short, squat little plants that are budding in the flowerbeds near the front of the porch. The leaves are oddly shaped and fun to draw, and Ross has filled a corner of the page replicating the rounded, nearly spade-shaped leaves. He’s thinking of making a new character, some weird little plant creature that Gobbles can befriend in season two. He starts to sketch, lazy and half-hearted. Then, _then_ , he hears this distant thudding noise. Every half a minute. _Thud_ , _thud_ , _thud_.

Ross almost laughs. He’s so used to that sound, the distinct noise of wood cracking apart under the blunt force of an axe. When he looks up from his sketchbook and scans the grounds in front of him, he’s quick to find Barry, who’s tucked into the upper left hand corner of the grounds, almost kiddie corner to the edge of the porch where Ross is sitting. Barry is wearing an almost skin-tight blue flannel, an axe raised above his head, chopping thick wooden logs on top of a stump. He hefts the axe like it's nothing. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and clinging to his form, his muscles rippling under the fabric of his shirt as he brings the tool down and splits the wood.

Before Ross really knows what he’s doing, his hand starts moving across the paper, and it takes him a few seconds of denial before he admits that he's totally drawing Barry. He's neither tall nor short, not fat or thin. He has just enough muscle without it being too much. _A good body for drawing_ , Ross thinks - and that’s all. He's always thought of people in different ways, how they would be as a character, as art. It’s not weird. It’s definitely not odd how Ross tries to detail the drawing, the right shading on Barry's beard, how his hair is sort of wavy but also not. It’s not weird. It’s art.

Okay, so maybe Ross is thinking about the soft way that Barry had smiled at him yesterday when he let Ross into his room. Barry’s a good-looking guy, Ross has to admit. Seeing this particular display of raw manliness doesn’t detract from Barry attractiveness either.

Ross looks down at his loose sketch, his capturing of Barry, arms drawn up in mid-swing, thick firm fingers curled around the handle of the axe. He isn’t sure what it is, but something makes Ross set his sketchbook aside, pushing himself up and out of the chair. Ross steps gingerly down the wide steps of the porch and moves across the grounds almost shyly. Barry hasn’t noticed him yet, which might be a good thing. Despite Ross apologizing, he’s not sure if Barry has actually forgiven him for what he said about the bed and breakfast on the phone to Arin.

In between strikes, Barry must hear the noise of Ross approaching, because he looks up, stilling the axe. He smiles, much to Ross’s relief, and wipes an arm across his brow. “I moved the chopping pallet from the side of the building to this corner,” he says, a little apprehensive, like he thinks Ross has come to complain again.

Ross puts his hands up in surrender. “Forget that I ever complained about that,” he says. “It’s practically background noise to me by now. I, was, ah, actually just out here sketching and noticed you. I guess that I wanted to come say hi? I realized that, I, um, never really introduced myself to you. I’m Ross. Ross O’Donovan.” Ross wants to smack himself for sounding so stupid.

It’s true, though - for all of the times that he and Barry had spoken, Ross had never once mentioned his name, and he’d only learned Barry’s from Suzy and Vernon.

“Hm, guess you’re right. I’m Barry, but I have a feeling that you already know that.”

Ross smiles and shrugs. “Vernon and Suzy might have told me a little about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Barry says, and then he scans over Ross, smiling again, a little realer this time. “Sketching, huh? You’re an artist? Gotta say that I didn’t peg you as that.”

“What did you peg me as?” Ross asks, tipping his chin up, almost like a challenge.

Barry snorts, “Maybe a tech guy? Someone who has his own office and people to boss around.”

“Well, I do have an office. Mostly, I’m the one getting bossed around though.” Ross doesn’t mention his show. He’s not sure why - maybe he thinks that Barry would think that it’s stupid to work on a cartoon, or maybe it just feels good for a moment to pretend that he doesn’t have a looming project that demands his near-constant attention.

“I never would have guessed that,” Barry says, leaning against the handle of the axe, the sharp, heavy face of it pressing into the grass. He’s sweating just a little, but his face is soft and relaxed, and Ross feels something push through him, a tiny pulse that is all too happy to remind Ross that Barry is actually _really_ good-looking.

Ross shrugs. “That’s why I came here. I just wanted a second to, like, breathe, you know?” He looks up at Barry. He doesn’t really know Barry, and he’s not sure how much Barry’s going to care about his issues, but it feels easy to tell him.

“I think that that’s what a lot of people are looking for,” Barry says, glancing at the building behind them. For just a second, his eyes are heavy but fond, and Ross feels like he just saw a glimpse of something that doesn’t belong to him. “I think that most people are looking for what they don’t have at home, maybe what they didn’t know they needed at all.”

Barry sounds serious, but he smiles when he looks back at Ross. He hefts up the axe again, holding it like it’s nothing, like it’s an extension of himself.

“How hard is that, really?” Ross asks. He’s never cut wood in his life, never needed to. He’s not really a ‘fix-it’ kind of guy. Fuck, he can barely put together a shelf, let alone wield an axe.

“It’s not bad,” Barry says, “though you should have seen me on my first day. I was lucky that I didn’t lose a toe or some shit.”

Ross laughs and Barry joins in, this small bubbly chuckle leaving him - and, oh, it isn’t what Ross would have expected, but it’s also one hundred times better than that.

“Here,” Barry says, offering the axe out to Ross. “You can try if you want?”

Ross swallows thickly, grinning. “I like having all of my toes, thanks.”

“That unsure, huh? Come on, you’re here to try new things, right?” Barry asks, smiling at Ross, his light eyes crinkling with warmth. “I won’t let you lose any appendages. Lumberjack’s honor.”

Ross rolls his eyes, but despite their rocky start, Ross does believe that Barry wouldn’t let him hurt himself out here - though, knowing Ross’s luck, he’ll be the first guest at the bed and breakfast to accidentally kill himself via axe wound.

Still, Ross reaches out and takes the axe, not anticipating its weight because of how easy Barry had made it look. Ross’s arm dips with the effort to keep hold of the polished wooden handle

“Alright,” Barry says. He grabs up a thick squat section of log and sets it on the cutting pallet. “So everyone thinks that you’re supposed to hold it kinda shoulder-level, right? But you’re better off holding it out in front of you.”

“Like this?” Ross asks, placing the axe outward straight ahead of him so that the sharp blade is facing towards the ground.

Barry nods. “And then you just kinda bring it straight up in the air and then down. You wanna aim for the center of the log and give it a good hit because, if you don’t, then you’ll just get stuck in the wood.”

“You’re not fucking with me, right?” Ross asks with a smile.

“Oh, you’d know if I were,” Barry says. He takes a step back to give Ross more space, which makes Ross feel a little better. Now he’ll at least only risk injuring himself.

Ross raises the axe nearly above his head and brings it down as hard as he can. He misjudges his aim and clips the edge of the thick log, causing it to fly off the cutting pallet. Barry laughs, and Ross feels embarrassment sweep through him, but he laughs, too.

Barry grabs the log and sets it back up on the pallet again. “Here,” he says, moving behind Ross, his hands curling around Ross’s forearms. He lifts Ross’s arms again, helping position him, and for a moment Barry’s chest is against Ross’s back. Ross can feel his face go warm. “Try this,” he says.

Ross nods, and he waits for Barry to move away from him before he swings the axe down again. This time, with Barry’s help, Ross hits the wood dead center, and it splits with a satisfying crack.

“Whoa,” Ross says. He’s a little surprised at his own strength. He never pictured himself as someone who’d be able to chop wood or wield an axe.

Barry nods, a soft smile on his face as he takes the axe back from Ross. “Kinda fun in a weird way, right?”

“Yeah,” Ross says, as he rubs at his arm, “Don’t know how long I’d want to do it, though.” His arms are already tingling from hefting the axe twice. He spares a glance at Barry’s arms, lightly muscled, the plaid sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Before more can be said between them, there’s a static crackling noise, and for the first time, Ross notices a walkie-talkie attached to the belt at Barry’s hip. Barry lifts it off and presses down on the side button. “Kramer here.”

There’s a delay before a fuzzed-out voice says something over the line. Ross can barely make it out, but it sounds like something about some fallen trees on one of the bike paths.

“I’ll be right there,” Barry says. He clips the walkie-talkie back into his belt and glances at Ross. “So, uh, I’ll see you later, Ross,” he says, as if to make it a point to let Ross know that he does remember his name.

“Yeah,” Ross says with a nod and a grin, “I’ll, um, see you, Barry.”

Barry throws him a wave as he sets off toward the hiking trail that Ross had walked just the other day, the axe loose in his hand. Ross stands there and watches him retreat until Barry is a speck against the wilderness.

\--

The next day, Ross ventures downstairs. He’d slept in and missed breakfast and was hoping that he could ask Suzy if she or Vernon wouldn’t mind if Ross had some leftovers. He knows that he’s allowed to order food whenever he wants, but he also knows that the bed and breakfast is a small operation, and he doesn’t want to pull either one of the owners away from their other tasks.

As Ross rounds a corner, he finds a person squatting near one of the outlets in the foyer. The person is dressed in a light purple flannel, and Ross smiles.

Barry looks up as he hears footsteps and catches sight of Ross, who’s now suddenly behind him.

“Hey,” Ross says. “What are you doing?”

Barry sets down the screwdriver that he’d been holding and stands up so that he’s level with Ross. “The outlet’s losing power, so Suzy asked if I’d take a look at it.”

“You’re a real jack of all trades, huh?” Ross asks. It’s the first time that he’s ever seen Barry inside of the main house of the bed and breakfast instead of wandering around outside, doing whatever it is that rugged repairmen tend to do - which, to Ross, seems like a lot of cutting wood.

Barry seems proud, his chest puffing out just a little as he shrugs. “I suppose. I picked up a lot of things from my grandpa. He was a real outdoorsman kind of guy. Anyway, what are you doing, Ross?”

“I was going to see about getting some breakfast. I slept in and missed it. I feel a little bad about bugging anyone, though.”

Barry wipes his hand on his pants before he reaches down and picks up the screwdriver, setting it into the open toolbox near his feet.

“I’ll grab something for you. I could use a breather. Come on,” Barry says, nodding toward the dining room.

Ross follows Barry through the dining room and toward the swinging door that leads to the kitchen. Barry pushes the door open and then stops short when he realizes that Ross is no longer following him. “You coming?” he asks.

“Oh, I…didn’t know if I was allowed?” Ross says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“You’re with me, so you’re allowed,” Barry says, holding the door open for Ross to pass through.

Ross does, and then he’s inside the clean and surprisingly spacious kitchen. The kitchen is lined with windows, bright and sunny in the early morning light. Barry moves toward the refrigerator.

“What sounds good?” Barry asks.

“Um, maybe some cereal?”

Barry snorts. “Alright, simple.” He gets on his tip-toes and digs into the cupboard above the fridge, pulling out a box of cereal and setting it on the counter before grabbing Ross a bowl and spoon and a gallon of milk.

Ross makes his own cereal, but Barry hangs in the kitchen with him. Once he’s done, Ross carries his bowl into the dining room, Barry tagging along behind.

Once Ross sits down and actually begins to eat, Barry finally clears his throat. “I should probably get back to that outlet,” he says.

Ross nods, but he feels a little disappointed that Barry actually has some work to do and can’t keep him company. Ross had wanted a break, wanted some peace, but now, being away from his friends was beginning to sink in and he found himself longing for some conversation that went beyond the guests that he’d met here at the B&B.

“Alright, man. Thanks for the cereal.”

Barry smiles, and it’s warmer than Ross has seen before. It’s nice. It suits Barry, feels like the kind of smile that he should always be wearing.

“No problem. If you need anything else, then you know where to find me…hopefully not electrocuted on the floor.”

“If I smell burning flannel, then I’ll come running.”

Barry huffs out a laugh, the sound even better than the smile had been, and Ross finds himself smiling in return. The conversation stalls between them, and Barry nods toward the hall. “See ya, Ross.”

“Yeah, see you.”

\--

By the time that Ross finishes his cereal, Barry is nowhere to be found, at least inside of the house. His toolbox is gone and the outlet looks like it isn’t going to kill anyone anytime soon, so Ross thinks that Barry must have finished up and moved onto his next task.

Ross tries to ignore the tug of disappointment. He doesn’t really know Barry, and they hadn’t exactly gotten off on the best foot, but Barry seemed nice once you got to know him, and Ross kind of wants to get to know him more. Besides Vernon and Suzy, Barry’s really the only other person around the B&B who’s close to Ross’s age.

Ross deposits his cereal bowl into the sink, unsure if he’s supposed to wash it or not. He feels bad leaving it dirty, so he washes the bowl quickly in the quiet kitchen, peering out the window that opens up to the back of the land surrounding the bed and breakfast. The back section of the land is quiet, the building taking on a sleepy feeling today.

Once Ross is done, he sets the bowl on the counter and heads back into the main room of the bed and breakfast. His phone is heavy in his pocket, and the small wave of homesickness settles around him. He thinks of Holly, mostly because she works from home and might not be as busy as Dan or Arin.

Ross pads out the front door and across the grounds, heading to the familiar little pond where he can actually get reception. He’d be lying if he said that he isn’t glancing around the yard, hoping to catch sight of a familiar plaid figure. Ross is alone outside, though, and he stops at the edge of the pond, staring into the water that somehow is both clear enough to see the fat, green frogs hiding under the surface and murky enough that Ross can barely make out anything else besides the perfectly rounded, green lily pads jutting out of the water.

Ross hits the call button on Holly’s contact picture and holds the phone to his ear, praying that the connection holds like it had before.

“Hello?” Holly’s light and easy voice comes across the line. Ross instantly feels better, smiling at her words.

“Hey, Holl!”

“Ross!” Holly says. “You’re alive.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, cell reception is crap here. I didn’t know that I was signing myself up for a technology detox on this vacation.”

“You could use it,” Holly says fondly. “Most the time, your phone is practically glued to your hand. How are things there, Ross?”

“Good. It’s beautiful here, just what I wanted. I got really inspired by the land and drew some cute little plant monsters. You’d like them.”

Ross feels a little silly being homesick on a vacation that he’d so desperately wanted and was counting down the days for, a string of red ‘Xs’ on the calendar next to his desk. Hearing Holly is comforting, reminding him of home. Ross tells himself that it’s just the distance, the fact that he can barely text anyone or check Twitter most of the time that is leaving him feeling more isolated than he usually is. Holly wasn’t wrong when she said that Ross was dependent on his phone. He craves the reaction to his work, has spent too many nights lying awake in bed, scrolling through Twitter and reading tweets about the show.

“I bet that I would. Are you keeping yourself busy?”

“I tried biking up a trail and wanted to die. Does that count?”

Holly laughs. “I would have loved to see that.”

“Everyone here is really nice. The owners are the sweetest people ever and…” Ross trails off for a moment.

“Ross?” Holly prompts.

“I’m here. I…there’s also this, like, lumberjack? Well, I guess that he’s a handyman, but he cuts wood, like, all of the time.”

“Mhm, what about this handyman?” Holly asks, and Ross thinks that he can hear a smirk in her voice.

“Nothing, really.” Why’s he talking about Barry? He doesn’t know Barry and it isn’t like he and Barry have had as many positive interactions as Ross has had with Vernon or Suzy. “Just that I thought that he hated me, but I guess that he doesn’t? He’s actually really cool, like, someone I could see myself hanging out with back home.”

Holly is quiet a moment. “Well, he sounds nice. Do you spend a lot of time with him?”

Ross feels himself flush at the question. He shakes his head, embarrassment creeping through him. “No, no, it’s like…he works here. I locked myself out of my room and he let me in. I also yelled at him a couple of times.”

“Oh, Ross,” Holly says, laughing. “Of course you did.”

“It was valid!” Ross says. “…Kind of.”

Holly is still laughing when Ross hears a second voice under hers. The voice is too quiet for Ross to really make out, but then Holly is speaking. “Oh, Ross, Kati is here. We’re going to go get some stuff for a craft project that we’re doing. Can I call you later?”

“You can try, but the invisible cell phone killer will probably prevent that. I’ll call you again soon. Tell Arin and Dan that I said hey.”

“Will do!” Holly chirps before hanging up.

Ross smiles as he pockets his phone, feeling better having talked to her, being connected again to the real world that he sometimes forgets still exists. The bed and breakfast and this sleepy town can feel like an island, a bubble, where time seems to slow and days seem long and bright, like the rules for the rest of the world don’t apply here.

As Ross walks back to the bed and breakfast, he thinks about the conversation that he had. Of all of the things to bring up, why did he mention Barry? A man who he barely knew? Why did he feel the need to tell Holly about him? He ignores the curious little bubble in his stomach and pushes into the main building, intent on getting some work done and not thinking about men who wear plaid and own kind smiles and warm laughs.

\--

Ross is back on the B&B schedule the next day and has breakfast with everyone else. There are some new people who he hadn’t met, a stressed-looking couple who barely talk the entirety of the meal - at least to each other. They talked to Vernon and Suzy, who seemed to have a knack for getting their patrons to open up to them.

Ross is mostly done with his meal, nursing his glass of milk and listening to Suzy detail the bug-watching hike that she’s going to be doing that afternoon, trying to entice Ross into joining in, when there’s the sound of footsteps and then Barry is padding into the room, a brown cloth tool belt slung around his hips. He’s not wearing plaid, which throws Ross off just a little, instead he’s wearing a t-shirt - plain blue, worn, like he’s had it for a few years.

“Morning, Bar,” Vernon says, throwing a wave at Barry.

“Morning,” Barry says. Ross notices him scan the table and then he sees Barry’s eyes sweep over him. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but he thinks that he can see the corner of Barry’s mouth twitch up into a smile. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to tackle that to-do list that you guys left me last week.”

“Aw, thanks, Barry, but none of it is very urgent, so feel free to take your time,” Suzy says.

Barry laughs. “This is my job, Suzy. You know, the one you pay me to do?”

Suzy smiles sweetly, but she looks like she’s going to argue with him. Barry raises a hand, holding up a yellow paper with neat hand-writing scrawled across it. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Ross slugs down the remainder of his milk, wiping a hand across his mouth before standing up from the table too fast, his body moving as if on autopilot, his brain struggling to understand exactly what’s happening.

“Hey! Hey, Barry!” Ross calls.

Barry stops near the staircase at the front of the foyer and arches an eyebrow as he looks back at Ross. “Yeah?”

Ross is quiet for a moment, his mind screaming at him: _Well, what now, idiot?_

“I…” Ross says, shaking his head for a moment and trying to gather his jumbled thoughts. “I, ah, was wondering if I could help you?”

That small smile creeps over Barry’s face again, a secret smile, coy but definitely there. “You want to help me?”

Ross nods a little dumbly, brushing a hand through his hair and trying to shake away the nerves. Really, he just wants a chance to hang out with Barry again, but it seems like all that the handyman ever does is work, so if Ross has to do a little labor to get a chance to talk to Barry, then he’s willing to do it. “I came here for some new experiences, so…”

Barry laughs. “Alright, if you say so. I’m going to be changing light bulbs in the spare rooms upstairs if you want to come.”

Ross nods again, following Barry up the staircase as they’d done the other day when he had let Ross into his room. They’re quiet as Barry’s keys jangle, and he stops in front of one of the unoccupied rooms, unlocking the door and letting the both of them inside.

The room is clean, nearly identical to Ross’s very own room, except the bedspread is different, the decorations and wall art not the same, like each room had the same basic floorplan but the themes were what made them unique. This one seemed sleeker and more modern, and Ross has a feeling that this room was Vernon’s doing.

“Can you grab me that chair from the desk?” Barry asks, his voice breaking the heavy silence between them and almost making Ross jump.

“Yeah.” He hurries to grab the chair, carrying it to Barry so that he doesn’t scratch the floor up by dragging it.

“Thanks, man,” Barry says as he centers the chair and hoists himself up so that he’s standing on it, still barely reaching the light fixture even with the aid of the chair. Barry fumbles with the box for a moment before tugging out a fresh bulb and handing the box down to Ross.

“How long have you worked here?” Ross asks, aiming for casual, unsure of how to start a conversation with Barry.

From above, Barry shrugs, unscrewing the lightbulb and handing that down to Ross as well. “A couple of years now. A little after it opened up. They needed someone who knew what they were doing and I needed a job. Plus, we were friends already, so it was easy.”

Barry changes the lightbulb and climbs down off of the chair. Ross sets it back to the desk, handing off the box to Barry. They leave this room and go to the next, repeating the same action as before.

“I’m sure that it’s not as glamorous as your job,” Barry says in the next room, unscrewing a lightbulb, “but it’s steady and comfortable because I know what to expect.”

Ross smiles. “My job isn’t that glamourous. I spend a good part of the day hunched over a tablet, drawing the same shit over and over until I’m satisfied.”

Barry misjudges his step off of the chair, and Ross sees him wobble. His arm darts out to brace against Barry’s jean-covered thigh because it’s the closest part of Barry that he can reach. Ross holds Barry steady, keeps him standing on the chair, and Ross looks up to see Barry staring down at him for a moment before his gaze slides to Ross’s hand open against Barry’s warm thigh.

“Thanks,” Barry says lightly.

Ross’s eyes follow Barry’s down to where his fingers are spread on Barry’s leg.

“Oh, um.” Ross pulls his hand away, “You’re welcome.”

Barry steps down so that he and Ross are level with one another, and he smiles in that kind way that Ross really likes. This time, it makes his chest tighten just a fraction. That’s new.

“That was my last bulb,” Barry says, nodding back at the light fixture that he’d just changed. “I have more stuff on my list from Suzy, but it’s a little tougher than changing lightbulbs, and I’d feel bad if I made you spend your vacation doing menial tasks.”

“I don’t mind. I liked helping you,” he says, his voice coming out just a tad softer than he’d anticipated.

“Well, I could always use more hands around here. I’ll be doing some more stuff inside the house tomorrow if you want to join me?”

Ross grins and nods. “Sounds good.”

Ross follows Barry downstairs, regretting when Barry bids him goodbye with a wave and a smile before he heads outside to tackle the list that Suzy had given him.

When Ross turns around, he sees Vernon sitting there, folding the glossy brochures for the bed and breakfast, a smile on his face as he lifts his gaze to Ross. “Did you have fun helping Barry?” he asks with enough innocence that it doesn’t seem like he’s implying very much, but the curl to his lip speaks otherwise.

Ross feels his cheeks flush slightly and he shrugs, non-committal. “Barry’s nice, like you and Suzy said.”

Vernon nods, not looking away from his folding. “Barry’s a great guy.”

\--

The next few days pass with Ross assisting Barry with odd jobs around the bed and breakfast. Barry’s trend has been to come into the B&B after breakfast and tell Ross what he’s doing for the day, making sure Ross actually wants to tag along. So far he has. He’s helped Barry carry the thick logs for cutting and stacked them into a neat pile near the pallet, his arms aching three minutes in but he continued on because he didn’t want to look like a wimp in front of Barry, whose arms rippled against the tight sleeve of his gray button down and who could seemingly heft up logs with ease, barely breaking a sweat.

Ross liked spending time with Barry. He was cool, and he had a calming aura about him that made Ross feel like whatever was an issue could be solved - maybe because that’s what Barry _does_. He fixed. He knows how to repair what was broken, or he has a back-up plan if he doesn’t; he’s never quite ready to give up on anything or call something a loss. He likes to heft up half-dead toasters, wires fraying, grinning at Ross, and say, “Everything is salvageable if you try hard enough.”

After working with Barry in the hot afternoon sun, Ross has sweat through his t-shirt, the damp material sticking to his skin, his muscles aching with effort. He limps upstairs to shower before heading down to dinner, the hot spray of water doing well to ease the pain in his joints. He’s never been one for manual labor, but a part of him is enjoying it, like working with his body is distracting the frantic mess inside his mind that more often than not pulls him in one hundred different directions.

Ross steps out of the shower feeling warm and relaxed, a towel wrapped around his waist as he runs a hand through his hair. His stomach grumbles with hunger, and he hurries to change into some sweatpants and a t-shirt, a true sign that, even though he hasn’t actually been here that long, he’s comfortable in the bed and breakfast, the building feeling something like a second home.

Ross pads downstairs, his legs giving small jolts of discomfort at the speed that he takes the steps. He grabs his usual seat, back to the dining room wall and facing the opening that separates the main room from the dining room. The other guests are already down here, some of the originals from when Ross had first arrived had already left, returning to their normal lives. Evelyn is still there, and she pulls a seat at the end of the table. Ross is thankful that she didn’t sit right next to him, though she’s still close enough to pull him into conversation.

Shortly after Ross sits down at the table, Suzy and Vernon begin bringing out dinner. Its chicken roasted with vegetables, and it smells so good that Ross thinks that maybe his mouth is watering. When Ross has a full plate of food, he’s happy to dig into the meal. This might be what he’ll end up missing the most when he goes back home. Even the best California take-out can’t compare to the home-cooked food of the bed and breakfast.

Five minutes into dinner, the front door opens and closes, and Ross looks up to see Barry striding in, his cheeks pink from his extended time in the sun. The soft cloth tool belt that he was wearing earlier is gone and he’s just in his button down and jeans. He smiles at the group at the table before his eyes fall to Ross and then to the empty seat next to him.

“Hey!” Vernon says. “You going to join us, Barry?”

“Yeah, man,” Barry says. “I heard that it was roasted chicken. You know that I can’t miss that.” He treads around the table until he’s next to Ross, and he drops into the empty seat there, one of the few left at the table. Ross notes that Barry had bypassed an empty chair next to Suzy and a stranger to sit between Ross and Vernon.

“Funny. We had roasted chicken a couple weeks ago and I don’t remember you attending,” Suzy says lightly, a twinkle in her green eyes.

Barry’s mouth flattens. “Well, that’s why I’m here now. Didn’t wanna miss out again.”

Vernon and Suzy exchange a look, and Ross pointedly looks down at his plate, concentrating on shoveling scoops of mashed potatoes into his mouth, trying not to read too much into playful banter between longtime friends.

“So,” Barry says a few minutes later, once he has his own plateful of food, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Ross says. “Just a little tired.” He doesn’t want to tell Barry how even the simple movement of bringing his fork to his mouth makes his muscles shout in pain. “The logs were a lot heavier than I’d thought.”

Barry smiles, something sort of fond, and Ross can feel his breath tighten in his chest. He wills the feeling away, blaming it on being happy to be able to hang around Barry, enjoying making something close to a new friend. He feels comfortable with Barry for the most part; any of the residual awkwardness from their first few encounters having long since passed.

Before Barry can speak again, a new voice interrupts the conversation. “Hey,” this voice says, and Ross looks up to see another guest addressing him. The man is older than Ross, maybe closer to his dad’s age, and he’s seated right across from him at the table. “I thought that was you. You’re Ross O’Donovan.”

Ross rubs at the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. This guy doesn’t look like the target demographic for his show. Maybe he watches with his kid or something. “Uh, yeah, I am. Do I know you or - ”

The man shakes his head and touches at the red tie that he’s wearing. “No, I read about you in a young entrepreneurs feature online. You make a cartoon or something, right?” 

“Um,” Ross says. “Yeah, I created a cartoon.” He remembers the feature, a quick phone call that lasted fifteen minutes at most, the picture that they used for the website old and just a little unflattering, but Ross’s mom still shared it happily all across her Facebook page, telling anyone who would listen how proud of Ross she was.

Ross doesn’t mind this guy knowing who he is, but no one else here really knew him as that person, and, honestly, Ross had liked the escape from being _that_ Ross O’Donovan for just a little while.

He glances around the table. Suzy and Vernon are looking at him with interest, and Barry seems confused. It’s actually Suzy that broaches Ross with a question. “You have a show?”

“Ah, yeah,” Ross says with a shrug. “It’s a cartoon…but, like, it appeals to adults.”

“That’s cool. I don’t think that we’ve ever had a cartoonist here before,” Vernon says.

“It’s not a big deal,” Ross says. “That’s actually why I came here. I wanted some inspiration for the second season of my show. I was hoping that a change of scenery might help. I’ve been kind of in a creative rut,” he finds himself admitting, realizing that Suzy and Vernon had finally gotten him to open up to them the same way that Ross had watched other guests spill their guts.

Next to Ross, Barry is quiet, and for a moment Ross is curious about what he thinks. Barry is more grounded, more realistic. What if he thinks Ross’s cartoon is silly? What if he thinks Ross is childish? Ross glances at him, but Barry’s face is neutral as he eats.

“Well, it’s beautiful around here, so hopefully you find the inspiration you need,” Suzy says, smiling sweetly at Ross.

Ross returns Suzy’s smile, but his stomach hurts just a little, and he doesn’t think the delicious dinner in front of him has anything to do with it.

The conversation shifts, changing into Evelyn going on about her training, Vernon and Suzy nodding along with interest. Barry talks, and nothing feels exactly different, but Ross still has nerves in his stomach, a paranoia he’s having trouble shaking. Barry excuses himself a little before dinner is fully over, nodding at everyone at the table before he carries his plate into the kitchen. He must exit back out through the backdoor of kitchen, the same one that Ross had used a few days ago, because he doesn’t walk back through the front of the room. Ross can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

After dinner, Ross is quick to go upstairs, dragging his tired body into bed, almost too tired to bother covering up properly. He barely thinks of Barry at all before sleep overtakes him.

\--

The next morning, Ross is eating cereal downstairs, opting for that instead of the omelets on the menu. He feels better, chalking up his unease last night to being overly tired. It isn’t like his job is bad or something that he should feel ashamed of - it’s cool and he’s proud and lots of people make cartoons these days, anyway.

Just like the night before, Barry shows up partway into the meal. He’s got a red plaid shirt on, and Ross thinks that it looks similar to the one Barry was wearing the first time Ross ever noticed him.

“Morning,” Barry says to the semi-empty breakfast table before Ross blinks and realizes Barry is talking specifically to him.

“Good morning, Barry,” Ross says, feeling relief flush through him, clearing away the negativity of the night before. “Are you here about more work? I gotta say, I’m a little sore from yesterday.”

Barry laughs, warm and soft. “No, actually. I remembered you saying you were looking for inspiration, so I thought maybe I’d take you out on one of the deeper trails in the forest?”

“The trails? Like the ones Suzy and Vernon take us on?”

Barry shakes his head, taking the seat across from Ross. His eyes are shining with what looks like excitement, his face lifting into a grin. “No, one of the deeper trails. We usually don’t take guests on them because they can be a little overgrown and we don’t want anyone freaking out and getting hurt, but I thought maybe you’d like to see? You know, for inspiration purposes.”

Ross can feel a wide smile stretch across his face, heart quickening in his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d, uh…I’d like that.”

Barry’s grin matches Ross’s. “Cool. I’ll be outside doing some work, just come find me when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Ross says, hoping he doesn’t sound too timid or breathless.

“See you in a bit,” Barry says, popping out of the chair and throwing a wave to Ross as he heads back to the front door.

“Yeah, in a bit!” Ross echoes lamely, flinching at himself.

Barry doesn’t seem to notice as he slips back out into the bright, warm day. Ross polishes off his bowl of cereal a little faster than he normally would.

Clearly, Barry doesn’t think any less of him. If anything, Barry had gone home and thought about Ross’s words, had wanted to show Ross something special that not every guest gets to see. Ross can feel his face warm already as he stands from the table and goes to put his bowl into the sink.

After breakfast, he pops back upstairs to change, his whole body giddy with nerves and excitement. Ross bounds back downstairs, aiming for casual as he slips out the front door of the building. He sees Barry leaning against a tree near the edge of the yard where the grass of the grounds begins to morph into the thick forest and the steep hill of the mountain.

Barry pushes off the tree when he notes Ross approaching him, and he grins. “Hey, you ready?”

Ross nods, unsure whether or not he was meant to bring anything else like his phone or a flashlight or water. Barry doesn’t have any extra crap, so Ross figures he’ll be fine. He trusts Barry. The man seems to know the land around here like the back of his hand.

“This way,” Barry says, nodding to the right of the standard mountain trail that Ross had already taken, the one that most guests get to see. Barry leads Ross around to the other end of the grounds, heading towards the road that would take Ross back into town. Before the road is a thin trail, the dirt covered with moss, making it blend in with the emerald green of the leaves from the nearby trees, making it nearly invisible unless you knew it was there, like Barry.

Barry pulls back a tree branch, stepping aside to let Ross pass in front of him. Ross steps through the opening, other branches thick with leaves sweeping at his face and hands. He can feel Barry step up behind him and then he feels a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Barry says, passing Ross so he’s in front and all Ross has to do is watch the broad expanse of Barry’s back.

Entering the trail feels a little like walking through a tunnel or a cave, the sunlight blocked partially from the thick canopy of trees overhead. “Watch your step. There are roots to the trees that stick up from the ground and sometimes they make knots.”

Ross looks down and sees gnarled, brown roots - they’re thick, like huge worms stuck across the paths. Once they venture a little further, the path opens up, the tree line thinning slightly, and then Ross can see the path. Barry had been right - it’s overgrown, thick with moss and small shrubbery, the ground uneven; he could see how, without a guide, one could easily get lost in here.

Ross scans the woods around them. It almost looks like another world, everything so green, a thick earthy scent saturating the area. Everything looks lush and alive and Ross takes a second, whispering a small, “Whoa.”

He hears Barry laugh and looks up to see the other man facing him. “Cool, huh?”

Ross nods, walking carefully behind Barry, whose own footfalls hold the confidence of familiarity with the path.

“This is my favorite trail,” Barry says. “It’s so calm and peaceful, almost totally undisturbed, just nature doing its thing without us interfering.”

“It’s amazing. It looks like some alien planet or - whoa!” Ross missteps, tripping over a huge root and stumbling on his feet. He feels the warmth of Barry’s hand catch at his wrist, tugging him to keep him upright. Ross blinks, momentarily dizzy and all too aware of the hot, tight grip Barry’s got on him, how Barry’s fingers brush Ross’s pulse-point, and he’s sure Barry must be able to feel how fast his heart is racing. 

“You okay?” Barry asks.

Ross brushes the hair out of his face, a surge of disappointment moving through him when Barry releases his wrist. “Yeah, yeah, I just…I tripped.”

Barry nods, and the two of them continue walking, Ross trying to be a little more careful so he doesn’t fall again. He doesn’t want Barry to think he’s incompetent or some shit.

“There’s a clearing up here,” Barry says. “Not too far. We can stop there and you can get a good look around.”

Ross nods; and when he realizes that Barry can’t see him, he says, “Okay.”

What feels like five minutes later, they reach the clearing. It’s a thinner area inside the woods, some of the trees having been cut down to leave natural stumps jutting from the ground. Trees line the semi-circle of the clearing, the ground mossy and soft beneath their feet.

Ross leans against one of the wide tree trunks to catch his breath, doing what Barry suggested and taking a good look around, trying to drink in the environment. He does feel inspired, this emerald colored landscape almost looking like a different planet, a totally different universe; it’s quiet, something alien about it, as if the whole area was alive and breathing around them.

Ross feels a light bump to his shoulder and turns his head to see Barry next to him, leaning against the same tree, their bodies sharing space. He can feel the heat rolling off of Barry. The day is warm, but inside the forest, it’s cooler due to the sun fighting to get through. Some of it does, streams of golden light cutting in small patches, rays of glittering sun dropping around them. It couldn’t feel more perfect with the light and the atmosphere, the rustling leaves dancing in the slight breeze.

“Thanks for this, Barry,” Ross says. “It’s amazing.”

He looks over at Barry, and maybe he thinks he sees Barry blushing, the high curve of his cheeks tinged a soft pink.

“I was hoping you’d like it. You don’t see many people here who would. I didn’t think you were the type at first.”

Ross shrugs. “I like nature. I always have. This is beautiful and I’m glad I’m here. Maybe you were right before and I was too dependent on my phone. If I had it right now, I’d probably be trying to find the best angle to post this on Twitter instead of actually being here.”

“Nah,” Barry says. “I wasn’t right. I was being a dick. I guess that I’m so defensive of this place because it’s my home and my job, but also because, well…” Barry trails off a moment and Ross looks at him. Barry glances upwards towards the roof of the canopy. “I went to high school with Suzy and Vernon. We and most of our classmates lived around here or in areas like this, and I always liked it. My dad taught me shit about the land, how to live off of it, stuff like that, things my grandpa had taught him. I was happy here, but as I got older, all I heard from my friends and from other people my age, was how they couldn’t wait to leave. They wanted out, deemed our town worthless, lame, all that crap kids say. I didn’t get it. Why did so many people hate what I loved?”

Barry is quiet for a moment, and Ross thinks maybe he’s waiting for him to interrupt, but Ross is quiet too, eager to hear more from Barry. The man seemed a mystery to him, kind, showing just a flash of anger but keeping everything else under a neutral pallet.

“Even Suzy and Vernon didn’t want to be here, not at first. They tried to go out and make it, create their dreams, and they left and I stayed. Our town is small and I couldn’t find much work. Besides doing odd jobs, my dad worked in a factory, and his old boss said he’d bring me on. I could always work there, but I didn’t really want that, to be cooped up inside, stinking like grease and manufacturing products for people who wanted to be as far away from my life as possible. Still, I needed a job. What could I do?”

Barry’s tone grows heavy, eyes downcast and deep, almost blue in the green of the forest around them.

“What did you do?” Ross asks, prompting Barry to continue.

Barry glances at him, like, for a moment, he forgot Ross was there. “I took the job. I had to. I hated it, I wasn’t happy, and I lived in a constant fear that I was going to lose my fingers to the spinning gears, but it was a job. I thought I’d be stuck there just like my dad, but then Suzy calls me, tells me she’s coming home, Vernon, too. I meet up with them after work one day, my hands stained black no matter how much I wash them. We sit by the river and split a six pack of beer. They tell me they both failed at their dreams, at getting out, and now they’re back, but they aren’t exactly sad. Suzy, bringing a beer bottle to her lips, tells me they have a new dream, that they aren’t done trying yet. She asked me to join in, but, honestly, I was afraid, too afraid to give up something reliable for something that could fail like they had before, so I chickened out and they started the bed and breakfast.”

Ross had heard a similar story from Suzy, just the bare bones of it, the quiet sadness to her first dream being lost but the smile of satisfaction at the bed and breakfast being the end result of that failure. The three of them seem like happy people, satisfied to be where they are. Ross can’t imagine them despondent and trying to flee from the quiet town.

“After it started and it was making just enough to keep going, she asked me again, asked me to come and help out, fix things, man the grounds, do the shit that she and Vernon couldn’t do. Maybe I was just tired of my old job or I wanted to feel like I was doing them a favor, like my hands were tied and I had to go, but I quit and I came here. I lived in the bed and breakfast until I made enough to buy this tiny cabin not too far away.”

Barry laughs and Ross smiles, the sound making him feel warm, making his chest open.

“I’m rambling, I’m sorry. My point was, I guess the reason I got pissed at you dissing the B&B is because this is their dream and my home, and without it, we wouldn’t have much left. People come here to get away from their lives and they go home to places we can only imagine. I’m okay with it, but I’m not sure Vernon and Suzy always are.”

“If it means anything,” Ross says after a long moment, “I love it here. It feels like a home. Suzy and Vernon and…you make it feel that way.”

Barry smiles, his eyes scanning Ross’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me about your show?”

Ross isn’t expecting the question, and he arches an eyebrow in response. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d think it was stupid or… that I was stupid.”

“Was making your own show your dream?” Barry asks, his tone quiet but serious.

Ross nods, feeling mildly embarrassed to admit it. “Yeah, it was.”

“Then it isn’t stupid.”

There’s a silence, long, when Ross can hear the distant chirp of birds and the light whisper of wind through the leaves, and Ross licks his lips nervously.

“Maybe not,” Ross says. “But I have a feeling this is pretty stupid.”

“What?” Barry asks, eyebrows inching high.

Instead of responding, Ross leans over and presses his mouth square against Barry’s. His heart is hammering in his throat, and his chest is so tight, he’s sure he’ll pass out. Ross can feel the slight bite of Barry’s beard against his jaw. This is the stupidest idea he’s ever had and it’s likely to end with him flat on his ass on the forest floor.

Except Barry doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t shove Ross off. Instead, his hands come up and are cupping Ross’s face, his thumb rubbing over the high curve of Ross’s cheekbone. Ross makes a quiet noise against Barry’s lips, and they break apart. Ross is watching Barry, eyes wide, slightly breathless, waiting for sign to stop, or to go, or for anything to happen at all.

Then Barry reaches out and fists a hand in the collar of Ross’s t-shirt and drags him closer so that their mouths bump together, messy and uneven with the way their bodies are still turned sideways, leaning against the tree. Barry fixes it, as he fixes most things, and he moves so that he’s in front of Ross, his mouth never once breaking away from Ross’s and suddenly Ross is being pressed back against the rough bark of the tree.

Ross opens his mouth and the kiss deepens. He feels the slide of Barry’s tongue against his bottom lip before it presses its way into Ross’s mouth. Ross’s hands seek out Barry’s shoulders, fingers clinging to his shirt, digging into the plaid. Ross is dizzy, head spinning. The last thing he ever expected was to kiss Barry - well, maybe the last thing he expected was for Barry to kiss him back. It wasn’t a plan - fuck, it was barely a fully formed thought - but it’s happening and Ross couldn’t be more thrilled about that.

Barry inches closer so their bodies are pressed together. He feels so warm and solid against Ross, their mouths moving together slow, curious, learning what the other feels like. Barry’s hands sink into Ross’s hair, twining in the soft strands, and Ross lets out a soft groan, one that has Barry pressing more insistently up against him.

They break apart to breathe, Ross panting against the side of Barry’s neck, unable to resist pressing a small kiss there against the heated skin. Barry huffs out a laugh. “And to think I thought you hated me,” he says.

“Clearly you were wrong,” Ross says with a smile. “Alright, well, maybe I thought you were an asshole, but, like, a handsome asshole.”

“I can live with that,” Barry says, pressing a small and sweet kiss to Ross’s mouth.

It’s a little crazy that, a handful of weeks ago, Ross didn’t know Barry existed, but here they are now, kissing in the heart of a forest. It could be a bad idea, but it doesn’t feel like one, not right now. Barry feels good, and Ross feels good around him, and that’s all he cares about.

Barry’s hand moves to take Ross’s, lacing their fingers together. Barry’s hand is rough, calloused from working outside. Ross rubs his thumb against the webbing between Barry’s thumb and index finger. He’s not sure what’s supposed to happen now. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I thought you were cute from the moment I saw you,” Barry says. “I mean, you were yelling at me, but all I could think was, ‘ _Wow, he’s cute_.’” Barry flushes a little, and there’s no way Ross can’t lean back in and brush his lips against Barry’s. He smells like the earth around them, a little like smoke and the crisp scent of dry wood.

Right now, being out here in the woods, exchanging kisses against the thick, scratchy bark of a tree. It almost feels like their own world, a planet inhabited solely by Ross and Barry, an environment just for them to explore. Ross likes the idea of it, staying here in the otherworldly trail with Barry, his fingers holding Barry’s and their mouths slick and swollen from kissing.

“Does this count as a date?” Ross asks, loosening his hand from Barry’s and instead wrapping his arms around Barry’s shoulders. “Do you bring all your dates to this trail? Is that your thing?”

Ross is joking, a smile on his face, but deep down, there’s a real paranoia, something telling him that maybe he isn’t the first person Barry has backed against a tree.

Barry’s hands settle on Ross’s hips, his hands feeling huge and warm as he holds Ross with a soft grip. Barry searches Ross’s face, and he’s oddly serious when he says, “No, I’ve never brought anyone here before, especially not for this.”

Ross can feel himself flushing, face growing pink. He swallows, eyes fluttering as Barry leans in to kiss him again, their tongues curling together.

Eventually, the sun sinks lower, and Ross’s stomach rumbles with hunger. Barry kisses Ross’s cheek. “Let me take you back for lunch,” he says, pulling away from Ross and linking their hands together, leading Ross back to the bed and breakfast.

The journey back feels shorter with his hand being held by Barry, and this time Ross doesn’t trip, doesn’t falter a single step. He and Barry emerge from the tunnel-like entrance, still holding hands as they walk back up to the house. Ross isn’t sure what any of it means. It doesn’t bother him if anyone sees them. He’d lost the fear about being out a long time ago.

He doesn’t care, but he wonders if Barry does? Or if he wants Suzy and Vernon to know? If they did know, what might they say or think? Ross is all but a stranger to them, a guest at their business. What if there’s a rule to forbid exactly what’s happening right now?

“Ross?” Barry asks.

Ross lifts his head. “Yeah?”

Barry has an eyebrow raised. “I said, do you want to eat with everyone else or something else in the kitchen?”

“Oh,” Ross says. “With everyone is fine.” He doesn’t feel like hiding away. If he and Barry hid, it would only make things seem stranger.

Barry nods and finally releases Ross’s hand, Ross instantly missing the feeling of his fingers twined with Barry’s. He follows Barry into the building and the two of them make their way to the dining room. The table is near full, just three seats left, two close together like they were the night before. Suzy and Vernon aren’t in the room as Barry and Ross take their seats, but a fraction of a second later, Suzy is sweeping into the room carrying the lunch platter.

Her eyes fall on Barry and then shift lightning-fast to Ross. Ross hadn’t considered that maybe they look different, that maybe they look like they’ve been making out in the woods for close to two hours. Ross thinks maybe he can see a hint of a smile cross Suzy’s lips, but then she’s setting down the tray and turning back to get more food.

When lunch begins, Ross tries to act normal, to tune into the conversation as he normally would. Barry is flawless at it, acting as if nothing had changed, or maybe he thought they already knew, no point in trying to pretend as if there was anything to hide at all. Ross’s stomach is on edge with nerves. He’s not sure why, maybe just from everything happening so suddenly, from spending so much time with Barry, to kissing Barry, to now eating lunch and he’s given himself some time to let it all sink in, his mind reeling. He knows what Barry feels like, how he kisses, and he likes it. He likes it a lot.

After lunch, Ross clears his plate and hands it off to Suzy, who’s carrying the rest of them into the kitchen. Barry is still eating and locked in a conversation with Vernon, and it would look strange for Ross to hang around for what appeared to be no reason. He hovers near the kitchen door and Barry glances at him, offers a tiny smile, but then his attention switches back to Vernon

Ross sighs. He had been hoping to talk more to Barry. Maybe he could hang around the living room and do a puzzle until lunch is fully over, but he didn’t want to crowd Barry’s space, either. Ultimately, Ross heads upstairs as he does most the time when he feels like he doesn’t have much else to do, his stomach a mix of fluttering butterflies and dead weight.

He’s hoping maybe he can do a little work, but instead he crawls on his bed and lies down, flicking around channels, groaning when he spots Gameoverse on. It isn’t that he doesn’t love what he made, because he does, it’s just he can’t help but see the flaws in it, the things he would have done different, and right now he doesn’t want that. Ross switches off the TV and, not for the first time, he wishes his damn cell phone had signal or that the WiFi worked in his room.

Ross lies there for maybe fifteen minutes, nearly dozing off from being warm and full, but then he hears a soft knock on his door. His heart jumps and Ross goes to the door, tugging it open. Barry is there, leaning against the doorframe and smiling. The butterflies in Ross’s stomach promptly explode.

“Hey, sorry. Sometimes Vernon gets really excited about an idea and wants to share it,” Barry explains, a fondness to his voice.

“It’s okay,” Ross says. He bites his lip and glances back at his semi-clean room. “Do you, uh, want to come in?”

Barry’s grin widens. “I’d like to, but I have a few things to do before nightfall. I took the morning off so that I could take you on the trail. I didn’t think we’d get sidetracked with the kissing, so I’m a little behind schedule now.”

Ross flushes, but he nods. “Okay, I…thanks for today, for showing me the trail and…everything else…and I’d like to do the kissing thing again, you know, just for the record.”

Barry’s hand finds Ross’s and holds it carefully, like Ross will break with too much pressure applied. “I’d like that, too,” Barry says, and he proves it by leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of Ross’s mouth. “See you at dinner,” he says with a wink.

Ross feels breathless, a little dazed. “Okay.”

Barry does return later for dinner, sitting next to Ross like he had earlier at lunch. When dinner is over, Barry catches Ross by the staircase, arm curling around Ross’s waist to tug him in for a kiss. Ross’s mind swims. He wants to invite Barry upstairs, but he doesn’t, and Barry smiles, wiping at the corner of Ross’s mouth with his thumb and slips out the front door to head back to his own cabin.

\--

The next day Ross doesn’t see Barry until a good hour or two after lunch. He waits around the lower floor of the B&B hoping Barry will come strolling in as had been routine lately. Ross finishes two and a half puzzles, one of a mountain and one of a park, half of a beach scene, before he feels a tap on his shoulder. Ross looks up and sees Barry peering down at him.

“Hey!” Ross says, too brightly, just a little too eager, but he sees Barry grin in response. Ross pushes up out of the chair and stands so he’s level with the other man. Barry reaches out for Ross’s hand, taking it in his own.

“Hey, sorry, I had a lot to do today. I was hoping we could go on a walk if you wanted to? Dates are kinda limited around here unless we go into the city, and I kinda have to stick close by.”

Ross nods, doesn’t really give a shit what he’s doing as long as it’s with Barry. “A walk sounds good. I’m from the city; they’re all the same after a while.”

They wind up on the more standard trail, the one that was more familiar to Ross. No one else is currently around and it’s nice, quiet, the sun beginning to dip towards the horizon. Ross is only a little disappointed. He was hoping Barry had more secret areas like the other trail had been, something quiet and uniquely for them.

They stop at a part of the summit and Barry glances off to the right, Ross’s eyes trailing after him.

“What?” Ross asks.

“Well,” Barry says, his cheeks going pink either from exertion or because he’s embarrassed, Ross isn’t sure, “My plan was to ask if you wanted to see my cabin, but I might have just now realized how that sounds.”

Ross laughs, drawing himself closer to Barry and waggling his eyebrows. “Oh, Mr. Kramer, are you trying to imply something?”

Barry’s cheeks darken. “No! I…I just thought you might want to see it.”

Ross doesn’t torture Barry too long, as fun as it is. “I actually would like to see where you live.”

“It’s not far,” Barry says, turning to face the right side of the mountain. “You can see it from here.” He points off in the distance, Ross following the motion of his finger. At first, he doesn’t see anything, but then he can see a small flickering yellow light far off.

“That light?”

“Yeah, I keep a lamp plugged in by the window in case I come back after dark.”

Ross hums, but then he remembers one of his first nights at the bed and breakfast and how, when he had peered up into the mountain, he had spotted the light. That had been Barry’s home blinking back at him.

“Let’s go,” Ross says, squeezing at Barry’s hand.

Barry leads him further down the standard trail until it comes to a point where it splits off into two roads, the first leading straight and the second curving into a thicker section of trees. Barry leads Ross down the second road. The fading sunlight and the thick blanket of trees make the path fairly dim, but Ross can still see Barry ahead of him, can feel Barry’s grip tight in his own.

They emerge a handful of minutes later in a clearing, grass and dirt packed ground where a small cabin resides. It isn’t huge or fancy, but it’s sturdy and clean. The light glows in the window as Barry had promised. There’s a small triangle stack of firewood off to the side and a couple of metal buckets hanging on hooks.

Barry fishes a key out of his pocket and opens the deep green door, letting bright light sweep out into the increasing darkness around them. Barry lets Ross in first, following behind and shutting the door up. The inside of the cabin is cozy and small. The main room is about the size of a bedroom, a worn couch in the center, a case of books off to the side. To the left is what looks like a small kitchen, another door near the back that looks like a bathroom, and to the right is a cracked door to a room that Ross can see is housing a bed.

“I know it’s not much, but I don’t need too much.”

“Might be bigger than my apartment in L.A.,” Ross says with a laugh.

Barry snorts, doesn’t seem too embarrassed now as he steps closer. The house is quiet and, out the windows, Ross can see trees swaying in the breeze.

“I can make us dinner?” Barry says. “If you want.”

“I’ll help,” Ross offers, feeling too bad to let Barry do all the work by himself.

It’s cramped in the tiny kitchen with the two of them, but they make due. Barry doesn’t have a lot in his fridge. Ross is more surprised that he isn’t at the bed and breakfast joining for meals more often. Barry cracks eggs into a pan and scrambles them up, Ross peeling and cutting potatoes to be added in, it reminds him of when he was a kid and this was all his mom would let him do to help her in the kitchen. He and Barry bump hips sometimes. It’s nice, quiet, but not awkward.

Twenty minutes later, the two of them are at the small square table near the window, eating their dinner. It’s fully dark outside now, and Barry notices Ross glancing out the window at the landscape around them.

“Kinda creepier up here at night.”

Barry laughs, “It can be. I’ve never had any issues, but I try not to go out too much after dark if I don’t have to. That being said, I can still walk you back to the bed and breakfast…or you can spend the night here.” Ross looks at Barry, and Barry raises his hands. “I mean nothing by it, I swear. I’ll take the couch and you can sleep in my bed.”

Ross takes a bite of his food, chewing before he bothers answering Barry. “That sounds good.” He trusts Barry, knows already that Barry isn’t that kind of guy and wouldn’t try to make Ross do anything that he didn’t want to do.

Barry beams at him, and it feels so warm, like the sun has risen all over again.

After dinner, they drop their plates into the sink. Barry doesn’t have a TV, so the cozy cabin is whisper-quiet as he and Barry settle on the couch, at first apart, but then together after Ross slowly inches himself across the thin cushions until he’s tucked into Barry’s side, fitting himself under Barry’s arm and resting his head back against Barry’s shoulder.

“What’s your life like in California?” Barry asks, his fingers sweeping over the back of Ross’s neck, making Ross shiver.

“Hectic. It’s a different environment, not like here. Everything feels busier. There’s always a ton of traffic, always people everywhere you need to go. Sometimes it feels like I’m spinning out of control, like there’s too much noise and too many responsibilities and -” Ross shakes his head. “Sorry. I’ve lived there for a few years now and I guess it gets to you after a while?”

Barry hums, his thumb sliding up to rub at the shell of Ross’s ear. “It’s gotta have its perks though, right?”

Ross nods, eyes fluttering at Barry’s touch. “The weather is usually nice. There’s actually a lot to see and do, a lot of good connections for the work I’m in.”

“You said you’ve lived in California for a while. Where did you live before that?”

“I’m actually from Australia.”

“Really?” Barry asks, voice genuinely surprised.

Ross grins and nods. “Really. My accent kinda faded from being here for so long.”

“Wow,” Barry says with a laugh. “So you’ve seen a lot more of the world than I have.”

Ross tilts his head back, causing Barry’s hand to pet through his hair and it feels so nice, Ross swears he could melt right there on the couch.

“Have you traveled at all?”

Barry bites his lip, shaking his head. “I’ve never left Oregon.” He says it like he’s embarrassed. Ross doesn’t think he has a reason to be embarrassed about that.

“You found a place you liked and stuck with it. Not everyone can say the same.”

Barry shrugs and his fingers go still for a moment in Ross’s hair, like he’s lost in thought. Ross can almost see when he comes back to himself, shakes himself from his mind, his fingers beginning to move once again.

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“A _good_ way to look at it,” Ross says.

Barry snorts, his hand sweeping from Ross’s hair, fingers tracing down his jaw, turning Ross’s face carefully so he can press a kiss to Ross’s mouth. Ross hums into the kiss, smiling when he feels the prickles of Barry’s beard brushing against his face. “I’ve never kissed anyone with a beard before, but I kinda like it,” he says.

Barry smiles. “My beard thanks you.”

It’s been a while since Ross’s last relationship. His work schedule doesn’t afford for a lot of time for dating. Ross’s last boyfriend had been Jared and that break-up was verging on almost a year now. Since then, he’s gone out a few times, letting Arin and Dan and Holly try to set him up, but not much clicked, nothing really stood out to him, not like the feeling he has right now, curled into Barry. Not that whatever is happening between them counts as a relationship. Ross still has no definition for it.

The conversation between them stills, giving way to the meeting of their lips, Barry’s wide, slightly rough hands cupping Ross’s jaw. Barry is warm and inviting and Ross feels immensely safe with him, like a fucking wolf could crash in through the window and Ross would be confident that Barry could fight the damn thing and win.

Ross hadn’t felt tired when he arrived. Maybe it’s the warmth seeping into him from Barry’s body and the cozy, quiet atmosphere of the cabin that has Ross’s head dipping as he nods off on the couch next to Barry. Barry notices right away, making a small noise. “Ross?” he asks, his voice solid and deep, rumbling out of his chest and into Ross’s skin.

“Hm?”

“You’re falling asleep.”

“No, ‘m not. Just…resting my eyes, Bar.”

Barry laughs, and that seeps into Ross, too, like he’s a sponge trying to drink up as much of Barry as he can.

“Come on, I’ll show you my room. You can borrow pajamas if you want.”

Barry stands and Ross whines, but then Barry’s hands catch Ross by his wrists and he tugs Ross up so he’s standing. Ross has to open his eyes to let Barry lead him to the right of the cabin, to the darkened room with the door cracked ajar.

“I don’t need pajamas. I’ll just take my jeans off. You know, sleep in my boxers…unless that’s an issue.”

Barry bites his lip for a fraction of a second. “Not a problem at all, man.”

He flicks on a light and then Barry’s bedroom is illuminated. It’s a little bigger than the living room, longer as opposed to wider. The floor and walls are light wood just like every other room in the cabin. There’s a wide, shabby rug in the middle of the floor and a fireplace off to the right. Barry’s room is pretty standard, not overly decorated, the most surprising thing being a record player tucked off to the side. The bed is bigger than Ross was expecting, definitely big enough for both Ross and Barry to sleep in comfortably, so Barry must be opting for the couch out of modesty, not necessity.

Ross almost wants to tell Barry that the bed is big enough, but he’s not sure it’s his place. If Barry wanted the couch, then he didn’t want to share the bed. Maybe he didn’t want to get that close to Ross.

“There’s more blankets in the closet,” Barry says, “In case you get cold. It’s summer and I don’t usually use the fireplace until it gets colder.”

Ross nods, half-distracted by the inner turmoil of whether or not he should ask Barry to sleep in the room with him. Before Ross can decide, Barry is digging in the closet and pulling out a blanket for himself. He smiles sweetly at Ross, leans in to press a soft kiss to Ross’s mouth. “Good night, Ross,” he says.

“Night,” Ross returns, his voice slurring - with tiredness or indecision, he isn’t sure.

Barry slips from the room, padding out to the living room. He’d left the door open so that Ross can easily see out into the other room, and he watches Barry spread the blanket out on the couch, smoothing down the thick, gray fabric. Ross smiles, but inside he’s longing for more, for Barry closer, feeling that heat from the other man.

Ross turns the light out before he shucks off his jeans, leaving them in a messy pool on the hardwood floor. He climbs into Barry’s bed, breathing in the familiar smell of Barry on the sheets, and he sighs, hand skating across the cool fabric, empty and lonesome without the second body next to him. For how tired Ross had been, he now feels wide awake, too aware of the small distance between him and Barry. He imagines he can hear every shift of Barry’s body out on the couch, the slight, subtle creak of the wood and springs accompanying each movement.

He lies there, eyes closed and mind racing, willing himself to go back to sleep. Ross isn’t sure how long he lies there, pretending he can fall asleep without Barry next to him, before he pushes himself out of the bed and walks to the door, leaning against the frame, hands wringing in front of him.

Barry might hear his footsteps or feel Ross staring at him because he looks up, eyebrow quirked, and Ross doesn’t miss how he scans his body in just the t-shirt and boxers he had gone to bed in.

“Are you okay?” Barry asks, voice just a little strangled.

Ross nods. “I changed my mind,” he says. “Come sleep in here with me?”

Barry looks wary for just a second. “You sure?”

Ross nods. “I’m very sure.”

Barry doesn’t need any more convincing than that as he pushes up off the couch, wearing boxers and no shirt, his chest muscled and decorated with a good smattering of dark hair. Ross forces his eyes to keep level with Barry’s as the other man walks to him, lets Ross lead him into his own bedroom.

Ross can feel the tingle between them, the spark that’s electric and new and exciting. He has a sudden vivid image of Barry pressing him into the mattress, kissing down his body, Ross getting to feel the slight bite of Barry’s beard against unexplored and far more sensitive places.

It’s Barry’s bed, but he’s the one that seems more hesitant to join Ross in it. He does, though, pulling back the blanket and sliding in next to Ross. He isn’t sure what to expect. He’d be okay with more, with whatever Barry wants, but the problem is, that he doesn’t know what Barry wants.

It becomes more clear when Barry slides up behind him, strong, warm arms wrapping around Ross’s thin body. Barry presses a kiss between Ross’s shoulders and Ross has to fight back the moan, the way his dick twitches between his thighs. He can feel Barry’s hips brush his ass; he doesn’t feel a hardness, but the little pass is enough to have Ross wishing he did. Still, he likes cuddling Barry, likes the solid muscle of Barry’s body around him, and he can already feel his own body fading into that lazy, sated state that had him nodding off on the couch.

“Ross?” Barry asks a few moments later.

“Hm?”

“Are you happy at your job?” Barry asks.

Ross wasn’t expecting the question, the topic catching him off-guard. Barry knew a little about Ross’s job but not much, and it hadn’t come up tonight, so Ross isn’t sure why Barry’s thinking about it. Ross ponders the question for a moment. Is he? His brain leaps to yes right away, ready to spit it out as a default answer, but the longer he waits to answer, the more the words evolve in his head, opening and branching off into a million different directions, changing into _yes, but…_

“It’s my dream,” Ross settles on, answering as honestly as he can. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, even as a little kid. I wanted to have my own show and I wanted to be able to animate.”

Barry hums, the sound rumbling into Ross’s body. “But you didn’t answer. Does it make you happy?”

Ross sighs, feeling warm and safe in Barry’s arms, feeling like he can tell Barry what he’s so hesitant to tell most people. “Not all the time.”

“Why?”

“It’s stressful. I’m so thankful people like my show, but I just…living up to their expectations is so hard. They all want it a certain way and if one thing is off they just…they tear you apart and hate you as fast as they loved you? It’s, like…it’s weird.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Maybe I feel like I shouldn’t be complaining. There are so many people who want what I have and here I am bitching about a little criticism. This is my dream and I should be happy, right?”

It’s easy to spill his guts to Barry in the darkness of the room, wound in Barry’s arms and facing a wall, not having to look into his face as he digs up his fears, the things that sent him running from California in the first place.

“That was your dream. You got it, achieved it, so you keep dreaming. What’s next?”

Ross is quiet. He hadn’t considered it, too focused on the here and now, living his current dream, not feeling like he deserves another. “I’m not sure,” he admits.

“Think about it.”

Ross’s hands stroke over Barry’s in the darkness. “Do you have a dream?”

Now it’s Barry’s turn to be quiet. Ross feels like maybe he asked too much, for information that he wasn’t supposed to have yet. As much as he likes Barry, it’s hard to remember that he’s only known the man for a few weeks, much of Barry remaining a mystery to him, as deep and dense as the forest that surrounds them.

“I think,” Barry says, “that I’m still looking, but I also think I’m closer to finding it than I’ve ever been before.”

Ross feels a warmth spread through him, body buzzing at the feeling of Barry’s breath tickling against his back. A quietness moves between them, stretches and covers them like a thin blanket. Ross focuses on the sound of their mingling breaths, mind rolling with new ideas, with their discussion. It’s easy for Ross to slip into sleep like this, wrapped in Barry’s arms, warm in Barry’s bed. It’s the best sleep he’s gotten since he arrived here, hands down.

\--

That next morning, Barry makes Ross breakfast, simple pancakes made from a boxed mix. They aren’t what like Suzy or Vernon would have made, the pancakes uneven and a little dark on one side, but Ross doesn’t mind eating them, not when it’s Barry who made them just for him. Ross smiles at the Barry across the small space of the kitchen table. It’s clear that Barry lives a quiet life, but it’s comfortable, and Ross can appreciate the quiet to it, the ease in which Barry lives.

After breakfast is done and Ross changes back into his clothes, he and Barry make the walk back to the bed and breakfast. He’s aware of what it looks like, the two of them emerging from the trail, and he’s not sure what Suzy or Vernon would think if they saw them together, but Barry was a perfect gentleman, even if Ross would have been fine if he hadn’t been.

“I have to do some work today,” Barry tells Ross as they stop outside the front door of the building.

Ross nods, already understanding Barry’s somewhat unforgiving schedule, how, twice now, he’s dicked off on a good portion of his responsibilities to spend time with Ross.

“I’m gonna take a shower, anyway,” Ross says. “Maybe try to draw a little.”

Barry smiles, running his fingers through Ross’s hair before he leans in to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. “I’ll see you for lunch.”

Ross smiles, nods, releases Barry’s hand as he slips into the building.

\--

Barry works for an hour outside before he heads to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. He has full permission from Suzy and Vernon to have whatever he wants from the house, but Barry tries not to partake too much. Still, the day is hot and bright and he’s worked up a sweat already just from chopping wood.

Barry digs into the fridge, fetching his water before he twists off the cap and sips from it. At the same time, he hears the door rattle and looks up to see Jack pushing into the kitchen, carrying the leftover dishes from breakfast.

“Here,” Barry says, “let me help.”

“Oh,” Jack says, his accent thick in surprise. “Thanks, Barry.”

Barry sets down his water on the nearby counter before moving to Jack and lifting one of the heavy trays off his load. “No problem, man,” he says. Jack is a nice guy, quiet but focused on his work. He cares about the bed and breakfast as much as any of them even if his role is more behind the scenes than anyone else’s.

Jack sets the dishes into the sink and turns the tap to fill it, intent on getting the load done before he has to gear up to prepare lunch this afternoon. Sometimes, Jack reminds Barry of a mother, chained to the kitchen, caught in an infinite loop between doing dishes, thinking up meals, and cooking, repeating the actions until after dinner when he can finally take a break.

“How are you, man?” Jack asks, squirting some soap into the sink and glancing at Barry. “Noticed you seemed a little cheerier lately.”

Barry fights the urge to blush and shrugs, non-committal and not willing to admit he’s been acting any differently. Surely, people can’t tell he’s been feeling like a lovesick puppy as of late, can they? Jack eyes Barry and raises a brow.

“I just…I’m feeling good lately, I guess.”

Now Jack grins, something cheeky and mischievous, and Barry’s stomach knots just a bit. “Noticed something else, too.”

“Oh?” Barry asks, like he doesn’t care, like this doesn’t interest him at all.

“I noticed you gettin’ real cozy with that guest. What’s his name? Russ?”

“Ross,” Barry corrects, his skin ghosting with goosebumps, his chest warms from thinking of the other man.

Jack’s grin only widens. “Right, Ross. So what’s going on there?”

Barry sighs. He played right into Jack’s hand and now he’s exactly where he hadn’t wanted to be. It isn’t that he wants to hide it, but he likes the idea of his privacy. The bed and breakfast is so small and word travels too fast, your business becoming everyone’s business in no time. Barry wants Ross to be his business alone.

Still, it’d be nice to talk about Ross, to gain some perspective, maybe, or to just be able to spill all his thoughts that sometimes consume him, like how Barry feels like he can still feel the intense heat of Ross’s body against him, left over from the night before.

“We’ve been spending time together,” Barry admits. “I like him.”

“Like…kissing party times?” Jack asks, winking at Barry.

Barry groans, his cheeks going pink. “Don’t say it like that.”

“So it’s true,” Jack says, sounding delighted, his accent rich in the small space of the kitchen. “You’ve been snogging the lad.”

“Jack!” Barry says, covering his face in embarrassment.

“Alright,” Jack says, willing to back off. He grabs for his sponge and begins soaping it up, staring intently into the dishwater before he looks back at Barry. “Hey, so, I don’t care what you’re doing with who, just…be careful okay?”

“We haven’t done anything besides kiss.”

“No - well, I mean, you know…” Jack says, shrugging. “He’s a guest here, Barry.”

Barry nods, fully aware of the fact but not quite sure where Jack is going with this. “Okay?”

“So what do guests do, Bar? They _leave_ …they don’t stick around here forever.”

Barry frowns. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of it, how Ross’s presence here at the B&B is anything but permanent and how, all too soon, he’ll go back to his real life, back to California. Barry knows it and had tried to resist the pull he felt to Ross, but he wasn’t strong enough, and now he’s more than fucked because he doesn’t want to let go.

“Sorry,” Jack says, “I just…you know a lot of people come here and they want to have fun and they don’t care because they aren’t here for long…I just don’t want him to be using you.”

“Using me?” Barry asks.

Jack’s face is grim, and Barry hates the look of nerves, of unhappiness on the usual cheery face. “You know, like, he just wants someone to keep his bed warm while he’s here.”

Barry’s face flushes, heart dropping to his feet. “Ross isn’t like that.”

“I hope not,” Jack says, “but do you know for sure?”

Barry bites his lip, wanting to defend Ross, but _does_ he know? He doesn’t. He knows about Ross as much as Ross has told him, as much as he’s observed, but it isn’t everything and it’s just as easy for Ross to be lying about his life back in California. How would Barry know the difference?

“I don’t,” Barry says, voice blank and edging on cold. His chest hurts. He doesn’t want to think about this, the possibility that Ross could be using him to stave off loneliness, treating Barry as a form of entertainment until the day he leaves for home.

Jack wipes his hand on the towel at his hip before he reaches out and pats Barry’s shoulder. “I’m not tryin’ to be a dick, ya know? You’re my mate, Barry, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Barry nods, knows that Jack meant for this to protect him, but Barry was fine before any of this was brought up to him, before he had to look the fact in the face that, one day soon, Ross would leave, and that Ross could easily want him for nothing but that physical touch, a preoccupation to avoid working.

“I’m sorry, Bar,” Jack says, turning back to the sink.

Barry shrugs, aiming for nonchalant, pretending it doesn’t hurt, that it doesn’t scare him. It makes sense, too much sense. Ross is from a big city with an important job, with fans and people who look up to him. What could he see in someone like Barry, who has little and doesn’t ask for much, doesn’t press for more in life, and is content with the small, quiet existence he’s been given. It makes sense. He can see why Ross might kiss him, might touch him, but also want nothing else from him.

“No, I…” Barry says, chest heaving with each breath, aching like it might crack. “Thanks, Jack.” Jack opens his mouth to speak, but Barry cuts him off. “I gotta get back to work.”

He’s quick to grab his water bottle and head out the door, escaping into what is familiar to him – nature and labor and feeling the earth with his hands.

\--

After coming back from Barry’s cabin, Ross had showered, settled in his bed in his boxers, and sketched out mossy landscapes, emerald green grounds, a planet just off center from his own, drawing each memory from his time in the woods. He’s inspired and works for hours, through lunch, choosing to snack on the items he had stashed in his bag when he left. He doesn’t let up until it’s nearly dinner and his stomach growls for real food.

There’s also the urge to see Barry again. Ross hopes he won’t be pissed that Ross had skipped out on lunch, but Barry’s busy, too, and he hopes he would understand.

Ross goes downstairs wrapped in a hoodie and sweatpants, feeling comfortable and better than he has all trip long. Things seem to be settling in the way Ross had hoped they would, all his directions aligned.

Dinner is just coming to the table when Ross arrives, taking his usual spot, the empty chair next to him unspoken but claimed for Barry. Dinner starts without Barry’s arrival, but that isn’t too unusual - he’s usually late, coming in from working. Ross waits, eating slowly, eyes drifting to the archway, expecting to see Barry walk through. Slowly, Ross’s smile fades as more and more of the meal progresses. Is Barry not coming to dinner?

“Suzy?” Ross asks.

Suzy lifts her head to Ross. “Yeah?”

“Did Barry come to lunch today?” That’s all Ross can think. He missed their lunch together and now Barry is pissed or offended or something.

He watches Suzy’s face scrunch in thought. “No? I don’t think so. I haven’t seen Barry since this morning, actually.”

“Same here,” Vernon says. “Last time I saw him; he was chopping wood.”

Ross frowns. Barry hadn’t come to lunch? He hadn’t even known that Ross skipped the meal? It could be that he got busy, got carried away with work, but he had to eat sometime, right? Why not just eat at the B&B instead of making his way back up to the cabin?

“Okay,” Ross says. “Thanks.”

Suzy’s eyes linger on Ross for half a second longer than usual, but she doesn’t say anything. Dinner moves on, and Ross finishes his meal. Even when he’s done eating, he sticks around the main level of the building, hoping that Barry’s just running extensively late for dinner.

When darkness falls around them, a worry develops in Ross’s stomach. Is Barry okay? What if he’d gotten hurt? Tripped on the trail and was lying there with no one to help him? It takes everything Ross has not to run out into the darkness, chasing the fears that spiral inside of him.

Ross steps out on to the porch, eyes scanning the solid wall of night surrounding him, looking and listening for any sign of Barry. He catches nothing, no hint of the other man. After a few moments, the door behind Ross opens and light footsteps join him on the porch.

“Are you okay?” Suzy asks.

Ross turns and nods, but he’s biting his lip. “I’m, um, a little worried something happened to Barry. He’s always in the woods. What if he got hurt?”

“I understand,” Suzy says, “but Barry is very careful, very knowledgeable about the woods.”

Ross nods again, but he feels no more comforted by her words, and he can’t see Suzy’s face, just her silhouette highlighted against the lit doorway of the bed and breakfast, the warm, golden glow from the lights spilling out into the night but still not finding what Ross wants to see.

“How about I call him at the cabin to check on him? He should be home by now.”

“I…” Ross starts, suddenly feeling silly, but his worry overtakes the fact that he might be behaving like an idiot right now. “Okay.”

Suzy nods and slips into the building, Ross following behind her. She moves behind the front desk, lifting the solid receiver of the phone that Ross once believed was purely decoration. Ross tries not to seem too eager or like he’s eavesdropping, trying to keep a good distance from the desk.

He can hear the rings - one, two, three, counting them out with his breaths and willing Barry to answer, Barry’s own words echoing in his head from last night. _I try not to go out after dark._

Finally, Ross hears Suzy say, “Hey, Bar!” and he feels a wave of relief rush over him. Okay, so he had been overreacting, but at least Barry is safe. “No, just…we hadn’t seen you all day and wanted to check in on you.” Ross watches Suzy’s face, but she’s a blank slate. “Oh, okay, well, that was it pretty much. Mhm. Good night, Barry.”

Suzy hangs up with Barry and then smiles at Ross. “I’m sure you could tell, but he’s nice and safe up there in his cabin.”

“Okay,” Ross says.

Suzy might notice Ross not feeling completely satisfied with the answer, as she begins to go on. “He said he was caught up doing a lot of work and he was just closer to his cabin.”

Ross nods, glad that Barry is safe but disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to see him today besides when they’d parted that morning. There was no rule, no obligation to see each other, but Barry had told Ross he’d see him at lunch and then they’d both skipped out, so maybe Ross has no reason to feel bad. He’d see Barry tomorrow at breakfast, more than likely, and it’d all be the same as it was. That same smile, those rough hands Ross is learning to love the feeling of…it’d be right there again.

\--

Ross wakes up earlier than he expected, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He can’t remember if he was dreaming as he sits up and smooths a hand through his hair. He feels unsettled for some reason, thrown off-kilter for no real purpose. Yesterday sinks back into him, like his brain needed a second to remove the fog. He hadn’t gotten to see Barry and was looking forward to breakfast.

Ross’s eyes leap to the clock on the nightstand. It’s early. Breakfast won’t be for half an hour, and Ross doesn’t want to seem desperate, running around and trying to find Barry. He’d likely stop in after breakfast or during the meal. It’s just another time that Ross is annoyed by the lack of a phone signal out here. Hell, he isn’t even sure that Barry owns a cell phone. Maybe he should ask?

A half hour crawls by, and Ross finally dresses and pads downstairs, sleep still clinging to his joints as he plops into his favored seat. Barry isn’t down here yet; maybe he’s working, maybe he’s still at his cabin, maybe he’s making his way down the trail to the bed and breakfast right this minute.

Suzy and Vernon bring in breakfast - pancakes, eggs, sausage - and Ross’s mouth waters. He glances around, keeps hoping to see Barry, and feels stupid for worrying, for missing someone he didn’t have any named claim for. Yes, he and Barry kissed and spent time together, but Ross didn’t know if it meant anything. Were they dating? Could they date? Was it supposed to be just some fun? Ross had jumped in without thinking of labels or repercussions. He just wanted Barry and he got him, but now he wonders…what does Barry want?

Ross eats breakfast and as the meal goes on his hope that Barry will turn up begins to dim. He wants to ask Suzy or Vernon about Barry, but he doesn’t feel it’s his place to come to them, he had already made Suzy seek out Barry last night, he doesn’t want to keep pressing. Barry knew where to find him if he wanted to see him.

Ross finishes breakfast, stomach hurting just a little. He wants to blame it on the meal, but he knows that he can’t, not fully. He hangs around a little and helps Vernon collect the plates to be washed, handing off the white porcelain, his fingers sticky with syrup. He won’t admit it, but he’s hanging around hoping to see Barry. Maybe he’ll still come in. Ross is sure that he’s overreacting. Barry is a busy guy, the only one that Vernon and Suzy have to take care of the bed and breakfast, so of course he’s busy.

Ross takes a breath and calms himself, going to the community bathroom that’s on the first floor and washing the syrup from his hands. He decides as he glances at himself in the mirror that he’ll go outside - not necessarily to look for Barry, but, at the same time, if Barry’s working, then he’s more likely to find him out there.

The day isn’t as bright as Ross is used to, the sky gloomy with overcast and thick white clouds blocking out the usual blue sky. The grounds are quiet, not many people out or around, maybe due to the weather or the general feeling of laziness that’s sweeping across the bed and breakfast. From the porch, Ross can see the chopping pallet where Barry cuts wood, his axe leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. He frowns, debating whether he should step off of the porch or just hang around on one of the chairs near the front. If he were smarter, then he would have brought his sketchbook down here so that he could keep an eye out for Barry but also look like he’s actually being productive.

Ross pads down the stairs and into the soft grass. He’s barefoot, his comfort gone to whole new levels while being here. A nice breeze rolls in, making the trees sway around him. Ross has always felt a little in awe of things like the wind and impending storms, how you can be small in the large scheme of the world around you.

There’s the sound of a low whistle, and Ross turns his head to the side, the sound is signaling from the left of the building. Ross follows the sound, walking to the side of the house where he had never been before. On the left hand side of the building is a shed, big and white. The doors to the shed are open and there are tools scattered around the ground.

There’s a slight banging noise, and when Ross steps closer, he can see Barry sitting on the ground in front of the shed, a toolbox opened next to him. His back is to Ross, clad in familiar flannel.

“Barry?” Ross asks, voice quiet. He’s nervous, unsure if he should disturb the man.

Barry jolts, hissing in what sounds like pain, and then he’s turning to look over his shoulder at Ross, his thumb pressed to his mouth. His eyes are wide and a little harder than Ross had been expecting.

“Hey,” Barry says, voice neutral but not really as warm as it had been lately. There’s something, maybe in the lack of a smile, maybe in the hardness of Barry’s eyes, that makes Ross think that he’s interrupting something very important, those factors that give Barry an aura that feels like the last thing that he wants is to see Ross right now.

“Are you busy?” Ross asks, too aware of how timid he sounds.

“A little,” Barry says bluntly. “Can we talk later?”

“Oh,” Ross says. He hadn’t actually expected to be blown off by Barry. “Um, yeah, sure. Will you be at lunch today?”

Barry sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Ross nods, that sick feeling tightening in his stomach. “Okay. I’ll, um, see you later, Barry.”

Ross turns to go, a thick pain prickling in his chest, spreading through his body like that pins and needles feeling you get when your foot falls asleep. He feels like suddenly his entire form is made up of that, the strange numbing sensation sweeping through him.

Ross goes back to the bed and breakfast, avoiding the lower floor and climbing up the stairs. His body might be present, but his mind is stuck back with Barry. He goes over their conversation, the way that Barry seemed so eager to get rid of him, how he didn’t seem like the same man that Ross had spent the night with. How he hadn’t even bothered to tell Ross goodbye.

Had he done something wrong? He couldn’t think of anything. Maybe Barry had wanted to sleep with him that night at the cabin and he thought that Ross was too prudish, unwilling to give him what he wanted. Ross shakes his head. He’s overthinking again, surely. Barry’s busy, irritated with work. Ross sometimes gets the same, snapping at interns that bug him when he’s in his animating groove.

Lunch time rolls around, and Ross is less than surprised to find that Barry doesn’t make it for the meal. He hadn’t put much faith in it happening, but he’d still hoped that he could just talk to Barry, see if something was going on, if there was something that needed to be fixed.

Ross is trapped between not wanting to go to Barry and that being the only thing that he wants to do. He can’t distract himself with work, with anything; the idea that Barry might be pissed at him is lingering in the forefront of his mind and Ross can’t escape it. He won’t be able to until he talks to Barry and finds out for sure whether or not something happened.

He waits until it’s close to dinner to stalk back out around the grounds. He checks near the shed first, but it’s closed up, the tools from earlier packed away, and any trace that Barry had ever been there at all is erased. Ross moves back to the front of the building, eyeing the cutting pallet that looks like it hadn’t been touched all day. It’s around then that Ross hears voices from the right side of the house.

He moves quietly to the side of the house, peeking around the corner instead of rounding it. From his position, he can see Barry and another man standing against the side of the house. The two of them are talking, and judging by the bright smile on Barry’s face, it seems his mood has improved from earlier when Ross had found him. The man talking to Barry looks older, his dark hair flecked with a majority of grey. He’s got a beard that’s thick, looks like it’d suit Barry better than the man speaking to him.

The man has a rough voice, garbled, but he says something that makes Barry laugh, the sound making the ache in Ross’s chest deepen. The older man reaches out and touches at Barry’s shoulder, holding him there for a moment while they talk and laugh. Ross can feel his resolve crumbling; it takes everything that he has not to leap out into the open and interrupt them. The only thing stopping him is the tiny, cruel voice in the back of his head that says, _Barry is not your boyfriend._

That’s true. He isn’t. They made no promises, no declarations, that they’d be anything or even _were_ anything. They’d kissed, had shared a bed, nothing else. Maybe Barry didn’t want anything else, or maybe Barry was tired of Ross, or maybe Barry did this kind of thing, chatted up multiple people at once. Ross doesn’t know - a stinging reminder that he doesn’t know Barry at all.

Ross closes his eyes, pain flitting through him like lightning in his veins. He can still hear Barry’s laugh ringing in his ears. Barry’s sudden distance makes more sense now. There’s someone else. Maybe there had been someone else all along. He’d been stupid to think otherwise. Barry was good-looking, had his pick of any naive guest who’d buy his act, probably took everyone to the “secret” trail that he’d showed Ross, the place where they had first kissed. He likely took everyone back to his cabin late at night to bed them. Ross hadn’t slept with him, so Ross was no longer worth the effort.

Pain spirals through Ross, and he stumbles into the bed and breakfast, climbing the stairs and hiding in his room, his phone curled in his hand even though he’s completely unable to get ahold of anyone right now, and if he went back outside to make the trek to the pond, he’d see Barry and that guy again. That’s really the very last thing he wants.

Ross skips dinner. He doesn’t give a shit that his stomach is growling in hunger. The twisting sadness is bothering him more, anyway. He doesn’t give a shit if Barry attended the meal or not. He waits until it’s edging on nightfall to slip down the stairs, avoiding the dining room area completely as he breaks out into the twilight.

Ross speed-walks to the pond, his phone shaking in his hand as he dials Arin’s number. The phone rings three times, Ross’s heart falling. Arin might be having dinner, might be at the office or with Dan. The thought of anyone, even his best friends, being happy is enough to make Ross’s stomach roll.

“Come on, Arin,” Ross pleads to the ringing line.

Finally, it picks up, and Arin is there. “Hey, man, sorry. I left my phone in the bedroom.”

“It’s okay. Look, I, um, need a favor.”

“Are you okay, Ross?” Arin asks, easily detecting the hesitation in Ross’s voice.

“I will be if you do this.”

“Okay,” Arin says, “sure. What is it, Ross?” He actually sounds worried.

Ross is too tired to explain the whole thing, so suddenly drained from the situation at hand. He’ll explain, he will, but not right now. All that he can give Arin right now is the bare facts, the bones at the end of this.

“I need you to buy me a ticket home. I have to get out of here.”

\--

“Barry?” Suzy asks, as she yawns, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

Barry looks up at the sound of her voice. He sighs, feeling tired, bad. He thought that he was doing the right thing in trying to distance himself from Ross, but it hurts. He hates that he blew Ross off the day before, hated seeing the pain flash over Ross’s face when all he wanted was to be next to him. It would be worth it in the end; he’d be saving them both a lot of trouble.

“Not that I don’t like seeing you, but it’s very early,” Suzy says. She’d come down to start breakfast, Barry knows; he remembers her schedule like it’s his own. He was hoping that he could talk to her.

“I…yeah, I just needed to talk, I guess.”

Suzy stops and smiles sadly at Barry. She places her hands on her hips, smoothing down the t-shirt that she’s wearing. “Is it about Ross?”

Barry blinks. He’s aware that he’s terrible at hiding anything, but he hadn’t exactly told Suzy or Vernon much about Ross at all, or the fact that there was anything going on between them.

“Don’t look so surprised. You two have been pretty obvious these last couple of days.”

Barry frowns, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sighs, “I don’t know what to do.”

Barry feels the touch of a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at Suzy as she squeezes at him.

“What’s going on, Barry?”

“I like him…” Barry admits, the words thick in his throat. “I like him a lot, but I’m stupid because he’s a guest and he’ll leave and he’s got a whole life away from this place…”

Suzy is quiet a moment, but then she’s dropping down in the seat next to him. Barry’s shoulder is warm from where her hand had been resting. She frowns when she looks at him, her eyes studying him intently. He’s known her so long, gone through so much with her, and he knows that he can trust her. He can put stock in her judgment, in her thoughts.

“I hate seeing you sad,” Suzy says. Barry sighs and goes to open his mouth to retort before Suzy adds, “Ross skipped dinner last night.”

“He did?” Barry asks.

Suzy nods. “And he seemed distracted during lunch, eyes scanning the distance, like he was looking for something.”

Guilt prickles through Barry. He had dropped Ross so suddenly that he’s sure that it was confusing, and he knows for a fact that he hurt Ross. He was trying to save them, but in turn he was wounding them.

“Have you told him that you like him?” Suzy asks.

“I mean, I kissed him,” Barry says, like that makes it obvious.

“Okay, but did you _tell_ him?”

Barry bites his lip and shakes his head. He was going with the flow with Ross. They’d talked about their lives, but not about what they were doing. Barry knew that they should have, but he was scared, too nervous to admit that whatever was between them was likely temporary.

Suzy leans back and sighs. “You might want to do that, B.”

Barry knows that she’s right. Whether or not he likes the outcome, he can’t keep running away from talking to Ross. The feelings haven’t dissolved, and all that’s come out of this is that Barry misses Ross, misses the casual touches, the warm kisses. He misses it all. “Fuck, Suzy, I know that I should.”

Suzy nods, her long ponytail swishing around her shoulders. “Soon, if I were you.”

Barry sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. He nods, silently promising Suzy that he’ll try to take care of this, at least talk to Ross about this, to try to fix what he might have broken.

\--

Ross tries to attend to his normal schedule, to act like nothing is wrong, that he isn’t hurting deep inside his chest, a consistent ache that won’t leave him alone, each breath reminding him of its presence. He eats breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Suzy and the others, and Barry isn’t at any of the meals. The mystery guy from the other night isn’t, either, so, fuck, maybe the two of them are together, maybe Barry’s showing him the trail, preparing to take him to his cabin.

Barry’s absence only reaffirms that Ross’s decision was right. He’ll be home soon, cutting his vacation shorter than he wanted, but all he wants right now is to throw himself back into work so that he has no time to focus on anything else, so that he doesn’t have one single second to spare on Barry.

\--

It’s late at night. Ross is in his room, trying his hardest to draw in his sketchbook, but nothing is coming out how he wants, how he pictures it in his mind. Ross can feel himself growing agitated, frustrated with his hands and the disconnect between them and his head.

He’s interrupted in his failed sketching by a knock on the door. He raises an eyebrow, heart jumping into his throat. He can think of very few people who would come see him this late, and as he stands, moving to the door, he isn’t sure who he wants it to be on the other side.

When Ross opens the door, he sees Barry standing there, and his first reaction is one of happiness, but then reality sinks in. Ross remembers all that has happened the last few days and his second urge is to shut the damn door right in Barry’s face.

Barry’s face is softer now, pulled into a frown as he meets eyes with Ross. “I understand if you don’t want to, but I was hoping that we could talk.”

Ross is hesitant, but he wants to know what’s going on, has wanted to see Barry so badly that now he can’t turn him away. He moves aside and lets Barry into the room, shutting the door behind him. He strides pass Barry and sits on his bed, staring him down. Barry glances around the room, as if he’s unsure of where he should go. Ross reaches out and nudges his sketchbook over so that there’s room for Barry to sit next to him.

“So,” Barry says, rubbing at the back of his neck, “I don’t really know where to start.”

“Anywhere would be good,” Ross says, sounding a little short, a tad hurt. He can see Barry’s frown deepen, but Ross feels pleased, wants to know that this isn’t easy for Barry. “Like why it seems like you want to be anywhere but around me?”

Barry nods, glancing at his hands where they’re settled in his lap. “I’m sorry that I’ve been a jerk lately.”

Ross looks at the bed, knowing that, if he looks at Barry, then he’ll cave, and he’s just not ready to forgive Barry that easily. He’s been hurting, been so fixated. One, “I’m sorry,” isn’t enough to soothe the ache that lives inside of Ross. “Did…I do something wrong?” he asks. “Is that why you’ve been…”

“No!” Barry says. “No, I just…God, it sounds so stupid now, but I like you Ross. Like, I like you a fucking lot.”

Ross warms at the comment, but he doesn’t let himself go soft. “I don’t understand. You like me, so you were mean to me? You avoided me?”

“I was scared…I’m still scared,” Barry admits. “Fuck, this is hard. You’re a guest here and you have a life that doesn’t revolve around this place, a whole life more impressive than mine here.”

Ross frowns, eyes Barry, trying to pick out the exact meaning to his words. “If my life back home is so great, then why am I here?”

Barry is quiet, the silence heavy and awkward between them, and Ross remembers when it was comfortable, when it felt like a blanket around his shoulders instead of a weight on his chest.

“You said you like me?” Ross asks, trying to get back to the more important part of Barry’s words, eager to forget the piece of himself, too real and uncomfortably sharp, that had just come out for Barry. It’s easy to say that this is a vacation, it’s harder to admit that Ross might like it here so much because, here, his problems don’t exist. He just didn’t anticipate a whole new set of troubles arising.

Barry nods, biting his lip. “I like you more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time.”

Ross sighs, eyes fluttering closed, and maybe it’s a mistake to give away so much, but he can’t hold it inside - whatever he has, he’s going to offer to Barry.

“I like you, too, Barry. I've never met someone like you. Everyone is so up their own ass in California. It’s so easy to be in a bubble there, like nothing else matters but work and shit. I feel like I can breathe here for the first time in a long time, especially when I’m with you.”

“I was scared,” Barry says, eyes big but worried, “that I’d be a fling for you.”

Ross laughs - he doesn’t mean to - and Barry looks panicked for a moment. He waves a hand in the air, scooting forward and covering Barry’s hand with his own, their eyes meeting. He can feel that silence shifting around him, morphing into something new, an in-between.

“I thought the same thing about myself, that I was a challenge or something, another notch for you.”

Barry shakes his head. “No, you’re -”

“Hey, I know,” Ross says. “I know now. You’re not a fling for me, Barry. You never could be.”

Barry practically lunges forward, and his hands are suddenly on Ross’s face, sliding down to his neck to cup and hold and keep him close as their mouths meet. The kiss is somewhat frantic, a needy press of their lips. Ross sucks in a sharp breath, letting out a whine when Barry’s tongue slides into his mouth.

He missed this; he wanted it again so bad. His whole body is being infiltrated by Barry’s smell, his warmth, and Ross wants to soak it all up, keep it forever.

Barry must be feeling the same way, his hands fluttering over Ross’s body like he can’t decide where to settle them. They push up into Ross’s hair, fingers stroking the strands, before sliding out and petting down his arms, fingers skimming down Ross’s ribs, tracing his hips. Ross shivers, every single one of Barry’s touches leaving fire in its wake, sparking Ross to life under his hands.

Ross takes hold of Barry’s arms and clings to him as he lowers himself back on the bed so that he’s lying down, his hold dragging Barry with him. Barry plants his hands in the mattress to keep himself up. They’re still kissing, tongues sliding slower now with the new angle, and Ross spreads his legs a little, allowing Barry more space. Barry doesn’t resist as he settles himself between Ross’s open legs, and Ross can feel the brush of a hardened bulge against his thigh, and he wants - oh, does he want.

As they kiss, his hands wander to Barry’s shirt, nimble fingers undoing the buttons from the bottom to the top, Ross’s hands dipping inside the fabric, palms smoothing over warm flesh, the smattering of dark hair tickling his fingertips. Ross pushes the shirt off of Barry’s shoulders, wanting to see him bare and warm in front of him.

The shirt slips off Barry’s shoulders but gets caught around his arms where the sleeves had been rolled up to Barry’s elbows. Barry is temporarily trapped as he wriggles his arms, trying to free them. Ross grins, sitting up, hands brushing against Barry’s shoulders as Ross kisses Barry’s jaw, his neck, lets his tongue dart out for a split second to brush against Barry’s Adam’s apple.

Barry lets out a soft groan, and then he’s shrugging out of the shirt, letting it fall off the bed to the floor. Once he’s free, Barry practically rushes at Ross, kissing him again as he presses him back into the soft mattress. Heat runs through Ross’s stomach at the feeling of having Barry on top of him, the feeling of this hint of dominance from the other man. Ross raises his arms up, lets his palms sweep over Barry’s soft but muscled chest. His hands pet over Barry’s shoulders, down his back, sliding around his hips, and then he finds what he was after all along: Barry’s belt.

Barry breaks their kiss when he feels Ross begin to fiddle with his belt. His light eyes lock on Ross’s, his mouth already red and a little swollen from their kissing. Barry licks his lips, eyes scanning Ross’s face. “You’re sure?”

Ross nods against the pillow, smiling as his hands deftly slide the buckle and then go to the button of Barry’s jeans, popping it easily before attacking the zipper. Ross wants this, he wants _Barry_. He hadn’t gotten it before, but now he was sure he wanted nothing more than Barry on top of him, inside of him.

“I want you to fuck me,” Ross says, his face flushing despite how badly he’s turned on, his own cock aching in his jeans, waiting to be touched.

Barry goes pink as he lets out a low groan, deep and rough, and it makes fire shoot up inside of Ross’s belly. Barry kisses him again, once, before his hands seek Ross’s t-shirt and he’s sitting Ross up so that he can tug it off of him, throwing it to join his own shirt on the floor.

Ross goes for his pants, wiggling out of them at a record-setting pace. While Ross is stripping down, Barry climbs off the bed and pushes his own jeans off the rest of the way, showing Ross the slightly worn, faded boxers he’s wearing. Ross smiles - they aren’t sexy, not really, with their faded checkerboard pattern, but they suit Barry and Ross can’t imagine seeing him wearing anything else.

He watches from the bed as Barry opens a drawer in the nightstand in the room before hurrying back to Ross. Barry opens his fist to reveal a small bottle of lube, and maybe it’s standard and everyone’s room has them - if so, thank God for Suzy and Vernon’s foresight into what their customers might need.

Now they’re both in their underwear, Ross sitting up on his knees and Barry in front him, matching his position. Barry’s eyes search over Ross, drinking him in, and Ross might feel self-conscious if he weren’t so eager for Barry to press him back into the bed again.

Barry leans forward, kissing Ross, slow, a more intimate kiss than Ross has had in months, the kind of kiss that he remembers feeling on slow Sunday mornings when he’d only just woken up and already Jared was on top of him, touching him and warming Ross’s body.

Again, Barry lowers Ross to the bed, gentler than before, and Ross wastes no time in spreading his legs wider, Barry settling easily on top of him. He kisses at Ross’s jaw, his beard prickling against his skin. Barry’s hands touch at Ross’s stomach, fingertips dancing up smooth skin, the calloused fingertips, rough from working outdoors, tracing him, and Ross shivers under his touch.

Barry’s hand drops lower and then he’s palming over Ross’s dick through the thin fabric of Ross’s underwear. Ross hisses at the simplest of touches. It’s been so long since he’s hooked up with anyone, since he’s had more than his own hand on his dick. Barry isn’t even touching him directly and Ross is already so turned on. He can feel his cock twitching against Barry’s hand.

“You’re so hard,” Barry says, sounding a little in awe. He keeps touching at Ross, curling his hand around Ross’s dick through the fabric and stroking upward.

Ross lets out a shaky moan, hips rocking into Barry’s grip. “You…you’re going to make me come if you aren’t careful,” he says.

Barry’s teeth dig into the deep red of his bottom lip and his thumb rubs a small circle around the head of Ross’s dick through the layer of cloth. “You’re wet for me.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ross moans, loud now, “Barry, please…”

Barry relents, strong, firm hands sliding to the waistband of Ross’s boxer-briefs and tugging at them, Ross lifting his hips to make it easier for Barry to slide them off of Ross’s form. Ross settles back down and is naked, laid bare for Barry.

Barry’s hands palm at his thighs, hands that feel so rough but delicious against Ross’s skin. His breath hitches in his chest when Barry runs his hands up and down the smooth, sensitive skin, his callouses catching slightly. Ross’s cock is erect and full, red and leaking as Barry’s fingers skate up his thighs, above his pubic bone, thumb moving across a hipbone, making Ross shiver. Barry is touching him everywhere except for his dick.

“Barry,” Ross whines softly.

Barry ducks his head in response and presses a kiss to Ross’s thigh, the prickle of his beard brushing against Ross’s skin. Ross’s eyes flutter closed, and then he catches the sound of a plastic cap snapping open. He cracks an eye open to see Barry drizzling clear lube over his fingers, rubbing them together to slick them up. His breath catches in his throat, dick twitching with no one touching him.

Ross splays his legs a little wider, and he’s rewarded with a wet kiss to his thigh, one that makes him shiver.

“Ross,” Barry says, his voice deep and his hand planted on Ross’s thigh, “hand me one of your pillows.”

Ross reaches up blindly, grabbing one of the big, soft pillows at the head of the bed. He hands it off to Barry, mind racing and so, so eager.

“Hips up,” Barry says lightly, his hand moving to pat Ross on the ass. Ross lifts his hips to allow Barry to put the pillow under him so that, when Ross settles back down, he’s propped up, a little more open and angled for Barry. Ross flushes, only a little embarrassed to be in this position, so much more eager to feel the thickness of Barry’s fingers inside of him.

Barry’s wet fingers brush over Ross’s hole, and Ross gasps. He longs to wrap fingers around himself and stroke his aching dick, but he’s excited, so turned on already, that he’s afraid that it’ll be over before it even begins.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Barry says in his honey voice as his fingers trace the rim of muscle. Ross shifts, rocking his hips to the motion of Barry’s finger, teasing at him. Barry presses his thumb against Ross’s hole and Ross lets out a shaky moan. He withdraws his fingers for a moment, and Ross hears the sound of the cap again before Barry is pressing one finger inside, Ross’s body opening up around him.

Ross shudders, hands skating over the sheets, trying to keep them busy so that he doesn’t touch himself. Barry goes slow, moving carefully inside of Ross. He’s not sure that he can handle Barry taking his time, though he appreciates that Barry wants to make sure that Ross is comfortable.

“I can…take another,” Ross says, nearly breathless.

Barry hums in response and then, without skipping a beat, there’s a second finger working into Ross. He lets out a whine because Barry’s hands aren’t particularly large, but his fingers are thick, and he feels good, the stretch familiar to him already. Ross can feel his body going hot, his hips twitching in response to Barry’s smooth pace, how he fingers Ross steadily, at an even rhythm. It feels so good that Ross feels like he might go crazy. He throws an arm over his face, breathing wetly into the crook of his elbow.

“Ross,” comes Barry’s deep rumbling voice. “Look at me.”

Ross whines at the soft demand, his cock throbbing hard and fully erect between his legs. He’s embarrassed to be so turned on, so worked up, just from two fingers. His face is burning as he shifts his arm and props himself up on his elbows so that he can meet Barry’s gaze.

When he looks down, Barry is staring back at him, his sea-colored eyes bright and intense and his fingers working in and out of Ross. He grins, breaks their gaze to kiss at Ross’s thigh, then lower, pressing a gentle kiss to the seam of Ross’s balls. Ross can’t fight the urge to touch himself, letting his fingers skate over the rigid line of his cock, a moan tumbling from his mouth. He gives himself a squeeze and forces the hand away because it’s too easy to get swept up in the pleasure.

There’s a third finger pressing into Ross, stretching him further, and Ross’s hips twitch. “You’re gorgeous,” Barry murmurs. “I knew that you would be.”

Ross can feel himself burning brighter, warmer, in embarrassment at Barry’s praise. “And you’re really fucking good at this,” he says. “Goddamn, I should have guessed that you’d be good with your hands.”

Barry huffs a laugh, sending a warm puff of air across Ross’s skin.

“I’m okay,” Barry says, curling his fingers, and then, _then_ , he’s hitting that sweet spot inside of Ross that makes him buck up sharply, letting out a half-shout. “As good as that sounds, if you don’t quiet down, then the whole bed and breakfast is going to know what we’re doing up here.”

Ross bites his lip, imagining it - Barry getting him off so well that Ross can’t hide the moans, that Suzy and Vernon and every other guest in the place would know just how thoroughly Ross was getting fingered, would be able to hear just how much he was enjoying it.

“B - Barry,” Ross whines. “Again?”

“What?” Barry asks, voice light with humor. “This?” He presses against Ross’s prostate again and Ross keens, arching off of the bed. His mind spins in pleasure, heat enveloping him. Barry’s touch is insistent, rubbing his finger against the bundle of nerves inside of Ross. He has Ross hissing, moaning, bucking up.

“Barry, I - I can feel your callouses, _fuck_.”

The thick bumps on Barry’s fingers catch at Ross’s prostate and practically light Ross’s whole body ablaze. Everything happens very quickly - Ross feels his legs buckle and shake, hears the moan being torn from his chest before he even realizes that he’s the one making it. Ross shudders, and comes without anyone touching his dick. He shoots thick, strings of white up the line of his chest and stomach, his vision darkening as he comes harder than he ever has before in his life.

When Ross comes back to his senses, he’s laid out on the sheets, panting, sticky and hot. He whines in regret because he feels amazing, but he wanted Barry to fuck him. How could he have come so fast?

Barry leans over him, hands bracing on either side of his head, pressing into the mattress, smiling sweetly, eyes sparkling. He catches Ross in a kiss, making Ross shiver and sigh.

“I’m sorry. I know that it sounds like a lame excuse, but that really has never happened to me before.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Barry says. “Watching you come was one of the hottest things that I’ve ever seen.”

Ross grins wryly, still embarrassed that he came so soon, and brings a hand up to touch Barry’s shoulder, anchoring them. Though Barry is moving slowly, Ross can feel the hardness of his dick against Ross’s hip, and it makes heat thread through his stomach. Ross licks his lips before he leans up and brushes his mouth against Barry’s. “Will you still fuck me? I want you to. I want to feel you inside.”

Barry lets out a groan, a fire sparking behind his eyes. “You’re sure?” he asks, but his voice is quaking like it’s taking all that he has to ask.

Ross nods against the pillow, spreading his legs. “Please, Barry?”

It doesn’t take much more to convince Barry. He kisses Ross firmly, his tongue slipping fast inside of Ross’s mouth before he’s gone, adjusting so that he’s between Ross’s parted legs.

“I don’t have…” Barry trails off. “At the cabin, I do, but…”

“It’s okay,” Ross says. “Come on, Barry.”

Barry doesn’t need much more encouragement than that. Barry’s hands skate down Ross’s stomach, feeling the muscles quiver under his palms. Even though Ross has already come, he doesn’t fall into a lazy, sated haze like he usually does. He’s wound up, body feeling like a rubber band pulled too tight. He’s aching for Barry, so ready, arousal stoking in his stomach like a dim fire, only needing Barry’s touch to kindle the flame.

Barry leans back on his knees, and Ross watches with lidded eyes as Barry wets his hand with lube and then strokes himself so that he’s slick for Ross. He leans back in, nudging Ross’s already-spread legs apart even further before he settles on top of him. With a hand between their bodies, Ross can feel Barry guiding himself to his hole, can feel the drag of Barry’s knuckles against the soft skin of his thigh.

Ross makes a soft noise, something close to a whimper, his head spinning. Now that he’s come, it’s almost better, like he can focus now on the wonderful way it feels to have Barry touching him, his senses both dulled and ignited by his orgasm. Without worrying about coming, without being so turned on that he can barely think, he can feel everything that Barry is doing to him, down to the feather-light brush of Barry’s eyelashes against his chest.

Barry feels thick already just pressing against Ross’s entrance, and Ross takes a breath, waiting a heartbeat, then two, before Barry kisses just above his nipple and tilts his hips forward and begins to open Ross up.

Ross moans, his hand swinging out blindly, grasping at Barry’s shoulder like he needs to anchor himself to something.

“Are you okay?” Barry asks, kissing Ross’s chest and then moving up to his neck, then his jaw, Ross breathing heavy already.

He nods. “I’m fine…just, God, you feel so _good_.”

Barry lets out a soft noise and all of Ross’s nerves light up inside of him. In the back of his mind, all that he wants is to draw out a series of beautiful sounds from Barry. To test this, Ross clenches around Barry’s cock, and Barry moans in surprise. Ross shivers at the sound. “You…you can move, Barry,” he says, still clinging to Barry’s form.

Barry grunts, but he nods, pulling back, almost pulling out all of the way, and Ross nearly whimpers from the threat of the loss - but then Barry pushes back inside a little faster than before and Ross’s noises die on his tongue, morphing into a groan.

He sets a steady pace, his hips controlled, filling Ross but still going slow enough to drive Ross mad. “God, you feel so tight,” he nearly growls. “ _Fuck_ , Ross.”

Their bodies slide together, a mix of soft and rough. Barry’s firm, hairy chest is pressed tightly against Ross’s, his hot mouth sucking at the pale skin of Ross’s neck, promising to leave a mark in its wake.

Already, Ross can feel arousal filling him again. Each thrust from Barry makes him shiver, makes his nerve endings pop. Ross moans as he feels his dick twitch where it’s trapped between their stomachs. It’s almost too much, the feeling toeing the line between pleasure and the thinnest hint of pain. Ross isn’t used to getting hard so fast, so soon after coming, and it’s more interesting than bad, intense as he feels his stomach getting lava-hot.

Barry slides backward, sitting on his knees again but keeping Ross close to him, his hands finding Ross’s leg as Ross makes a quiet, bewildered sound. Barry takes one of Ross’s legs, lifting it with ease and leaning down to hook it over his shoulder. Ross can feel himself opened even wider like this, the back of his thigh pressed against the warm line of Barry’s chest. Ross’s other leg locks around Barry’s hip, clutching, trying to keep Barry close. He’s stretched wide, and he shivers at the feeling of it, of being that exposed for Barry.

When Barry starts to move again, rolling his hips experimentally, the new position makes it feel different, makes Barry feel deeper than before. It makes Barry’s cock brush that sweet spot that has Ross’s toes curling and his head lolling against the pillow.

Ross’s hands skate across the sheets, desperate to touch Barry, but the change in position has him too far to reach. Ross groans, half in pleasure and half in frustration. “I want to feel you,” he says, hoping that Barry will understand because he doesn’t think that he has the brain power to elaborate any further right now.

Barry hums and then Ross feels the thrusts slow, his other leg suddenly being lifted and, like the first, hooked over Barry’s shoulder. The position is different again, even more so when Barry leans back in so that Ross’s knees press gently against his chest, knocking the wind out of him for a moment.

Barry is close again, kissing Ross’s chest, and Ross’s hands fly to Barry’s arms where they’re braced against the mattress, his fingers playing over muscle and tanned, warm skin. Ross can’t help but cling to Barry as he starts to fuck into him.

Somehow, Barry goes even deeper, and Ross shakes, mind going numb but speeding one hundred miles an hour at the same time. He feels so good, feels _full_ , surrounded by Barry and the smell of the forest, the earth, all of these elements swirling around Ross, plucking at his senses and making his body feel like it’s buzzing.

The twitching in Ross’s dick has evolved into full-on arousal, his dick growing full and hard against his stomach. He moans, surprised at himself, at how, just from getting fucked, he’s managed to get hard for the second time.

Ross gives himself an experimental stroke and hisses because his dick still feels tender, overstimulated. He rubs under the head where he’s already leaking, pearly droplets of pre-come sticking to his fingertips, dribbling onto his stomach. Ross shudders and forces his hand away because he won’t be able to stop himself from coming too soon all over again.

Barry keeps fucking him, but his pace is starting to go a little erratic. He’s panting above Ross, and when Ross looks up at him, he drinks in how beautiful Barry is. All that dark hair, the way that his eyes are bright with a color that Ross can’t even pin down in his hazy mind… Barry’s eyes are so heated, scanning Ross as he pumps into him, and Ross groans softly, watching Barry’s gaze drift to the pink of Ross’s mouth.

“Are you getting close?” Ross asks, sliding a hand up to touch at the back of Barry’s neck.

Barry nods, grunting, thrusting into Ross a little faster. Ross’s eyes flutter and he bites his lip. His body arches with each thrust from Barry, his frame sliding across the mattress. His cock throbs, heavy and red, aching for touch and a second release, but Ross won’t stroke himself. Still, his dick throbs in desperation, begging him to change his mind, to reconsider.

Barry shifts so that he’s closer, so that he can reach Ross’s mouth and plant soft kisses on his jaw, inching up to his lips. Like this, Ross is tilted; the next time that Barry bottoms out. Ross moans, loud and bright, because Barry nailed his prostate.

“Are you -” Barry tries to ask, sounding alarmed and slowing his thrusts.

“No - I mean, yes, but, no, don’t stop - please don’t stop moving - I -”

Barry listens, thrusting again and again, hitting that sweet spot inside of Ross, making his hips buck and a moan rip through him. Ross is aware that he’s shaking. That new and constant pressure on his prostate is a beautiful sensation that’s going to drag him over the edge kicking and screaming.

“Please, Barry,” Ross whines.

Barry obliges, speeding up and hitting that spot in rapid succession. Ross tightens up around Barry. He can feel Barry moan, can feel him breathing so heavily, and he wants Barry to get there, to follow him over the edge. He wants to hold Barry’s hand and kiss him while they tumble into the dark pit of absolute pleasure.

They’re kissing again. Ross mutters, “Come inside me…please come inside me,” against Barry’s mouth.

“Holy shit,” Barry hisses. He gives a hard thrust, and Ross digs his hands into Barry’s forearms as he tips over the edge, nearly screaming in pleasure as he comes all over his stomach, comes from being fucked and not being touched for the second time.

Barry is sloppier now - having lived through two of Ross’s orgasms, it’s apparent that soon it’ll be Barry’s turn. He thrusts erratic into Ross a handful of times, Ross quivering as he comes down from his own orgasmic high, and then Barry is freezing inside of Ross and Ross can feel the thick, hot spurts of Barry’s come filling him.

They stay like that for a moment, Barry catching his breath, panting against Ross’s chest, his softening cock still inside of him.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay?” Barry says as he helps gently lower Ross’s legs off of his shoulders before slowly pulling out of him. Ross feels empty and slick - he feels disgusting - but the thought of moving from the bed sounds like the worst idea that he’s ever heard.

Barry lies down on the bed next to him, and Ross instantly turns, pressing himself to Barry’s sweat-damp chest. Barry doesn’t seem to mind; he makes a small noise that sounds like a laugh as Ross tucks his head under Barry’s jaw, Barry’s arms winding around Ross’s body.

“So,” Ross says into the salty skin of Barry’s chest, “I’m glad that we made up.”

Barry does laugh now, something small and soft. “Me, too. I didn’t expect it to go this way, but I won’t complain.”

Ross lets his eyes droop closed, feeling utterly safe in Barry’s arms, feeling content for the first time in days because Barry is right here and they made up. It’s no wonder that it’s so easy for Ross to fall into the quiet embrace of sleep.

\--

Ross doesn’t wake up until the next morning. He yawns and blinks blearily at Barry’s form next to him. He’s still asleep, and Ross smiles at the sight. Barry had spent the night with him, had slept naked and warm next to Ross all night and is still here the next day. Barry’s face is peaceful and soft in his sleep. Ross wants to touch him, but he doesn’t want to wake him up. He does so much for the bed and breakfast that the least that Ross can do is let him sleep.

Ross, on the other hand, is awake, and he feels disgusting, his skin decorated with dried sweat and come. He decides on a shower and is careful to move quietly as he slips from the bed. Barry doesn’t wake, and Ross grabs some clothes from his suitcase before he pads carefully into the bathroom.

\--

When Barry wakes up, he’s momentarily disoriented. This isn’t his bedroom.

It takes a couple of seconds for the night before to register with him as a real thing that happened and not some kind of blissful wet dream. Barry’s in Ross’s room, in Ross’s _bed_. He slides a hand across the sheets but finds no warm body next to him.

He frowns and sits up. “Ross?”

It’s early, but maybe Ross was hungry and went down for breakfast. Barry scratches a hand through his hair before he hears the hiss of the shower running. That makes a lot more sense.

Barry feels gross, too, but he’s not about to barge into Ross’s shower, even if the two of them did just sleep together. Instead, Barry finds his underwear on the floor and pulls them on, along with his jeans. He can always go back to his cabin after breakfast and shower before jumping into his workload.

Barry scans the room. Ross had kept it somewhat tidy. Some clothes spill from his suitcase, a couple of t-shirts balled up on the chair in the far corner. He spots Ross’s laptop sitting on the small table near the bed and remembers the multitude of times that Ross had complained about the lack of WiFi. He hums, the repairman in him taking over as he stands and picks up Ross’s computer, bringing it back to the bed with him.

Barry finds the laptop already on and opened to the background, a picture of some video game character that Barry doesn’t recognize, a highlighting example of how their normal lives are worlds apart. Barry isn’t trying to snoop. He avoids anything else on Ross’s laptop besides the right-hand corner where the time and date are illuminated, along with the little red X informing him that he’s not connected to the internet.

Barry isn’t good with most technology, but he had taken it upon himself to learn the ins and outs of WiFi for the bed and breakfast, knowing that it would be an issue that would come up with the guests. Still, he’d rather fix something more tangible, outlets and lightbulbs, than to try to tackle the invisible wires of technology.

Barry brings up the little input box for connecting to their WiFi. He taps in the password that he has memorized at this point. He thinks that maybe this is where Ross had trouble. The plaque in the room tells you to put in the password - what it doesn’t mention is how you have to add your own room number on to the end of the password. Vernon or Suzy should have let Ross know that when he checked in. Maybe they did and it slipped Ross’s mind, or maybe one of them had forgotten.

Barry adds the room number and hits _enter_. Seconds later, the bars signaling successful internet access take the place of the red X.

Barry smiles, happy because he’s sure that this will make Ross happy, that it’s something that Ross wanted, even if Barry doesn’t always understand the dependency people have on their devices and the time suck that seems to be the internet.

Barry goes to move away from the laptop, but then the machine makes a whirring noise and a browser box pops up before him, the webpage refreshing to whatever Ross had tried to access last.

A page of e-mails load. This isn’t Barry’s business and he definitely shouldn’t be looking. He goes to shut the screen when something catches his eye - a heart, big and pink in the subject line of an e-mail. Maybe it isn’t right, but Barry can’t stop his eyes from flickering over the subject of the message. It’s from someone named Arin.

Barry already feels his stomach tighten. In highlighted text, the message reads:

_Here are your plane tickets, lover boy. Come home soon! I miss you! [heart emoji] [kissy face emoji]_

A flash of pain moves through Barry’s chest. He licks his lips. Distantly, he hears the sound of the running water die down. He had been right. Ross had a whole other life away from the bed and breakfast - and, if this email was anything to go by, that life included a boyfriend.

Jack had tried to warn Barry, and Barry had tried to stay away, but he gave in, and for what? To wind up exactly where he was afraid of being? Not to mention the plane tickets. Ross was leaving? How soon? Why hadn’t he said anything before now?

The bathroom door opens, and Barry hears the padding of damp feet against the wood floor before he sees Ross, a towel around his waist and his hair slicked down to his forehead. He smiles when he sees Barry. Normally, it would warm Barry’s heart, but, right now, he feels nothing except sick to his stomach.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Ross says sweetly.

Barry nods, his chest aching and a heat beginning to rise through him. He had trusted Ross, had listened to Ross’s words. Ross had told him that he liked him. How dumb had Barry been to believe that it was true?

Ross must notice the look on Barry’s face, how he can barely contain the emotions welling up inside of him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice softer, a gentle confusion taking over his features.

Barry hates how, even right now, when he’s upset, when he’s aching, he still finds Ross cute. He’s still drawn to the other man. He shakes his head. That kind of thinking was what got him here in the first place.

“I…I fixed your WiFi,” he says, voice edging on cold.

Ross brightens. “You did? Oh, man, I’ve been dying to get it to work!”

Barry nods. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want you to miss an e-mail about your plane tickets, right?” The hardness in his voice is coming out and he can’t reign it in.

He watches Ross’s brows scrunch in confusion. “What?”

“An e-mail from your boyfriend popped up about how much he misses you and how he got you your plane tickets home. How long did you know that you were going to be leaving? What was all of that last night? Just wanted to see if you could bed me before you had to take off?”

Ross brushes his hair out of his face, eyes flickering with pain. “Why were you looking at my e-mail?” he asks, voice calm but with an edge to it.

Barry is practically shaking with anger and pain, but his cheeks go pink with guilt and embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to,” he says defensively, not willing to back down from how hurt he is even if he found the information out in a way that wasn’t the most straightforward. “It popped up after I fixed the internet. Trust me, I didn’t want to know that you had a boyfriend and that everything that I was afraid of about you came true.”

Ross’s frown deepens. Barry hates seeing that look on Ross’s face, but, right now, he’s hurting so badly, so freshly, that all that he wants is to see Ross hurt as bad as Barry himself is, the two of them on an even playing field.

“You…really think that I’d do that to you?” Ross asks. His voice is small, making an ache blossom across Barry’s chest. “I thought that you knew me better than that by now.”

Barry closes his eyes. “I don’t think that I know you at all,” he whispers. “Just who you’re presenting to me. You could be anyone, could act like anything, act like the nicest guy here, but what does it matter if that isn’t who you really are?”

There’s a silence, and Barry opens his eyes to see Ross staring at him, his jaw clenched and pain hot in his intense blue eyes.

“You always think the worst of me,” Ross says. “You still think that I’m that spoiled city kid, don’t you?”

Barry is quiet, his heart beating loud and fast in his chest. He’s hurting too bad for this. Just a few hours ago, Ross had been under him, touching him. How much of that was true? Barry doesn’t know. All he knows is that the e-mail illuminated for him the boundaries of Ross’s life, the clear outlines and how Barry doesn’t have a place within them, not like he thought he did, the role already filled by someone else, someone who Ross trusts more.

Barry shakes his head, unable to sit here and listen to Ross any longer. He feels dumb, so fucking stupid, for putting any sort of stock in this, in them, for even thinking that they could be something. He grabs his shirt where it’s crumpled on the floor, a visible reminder of what an idiot Barry is, how blinded he let himself become.

Ross is still standing there in his towel, water puddling on the floor around his feet. His eyes are frantic, like he’s searching for something, and Barry is halfway to the door when he feels Ross’s hand on his shoulder.

“Barry, wait! Can we just -”

Barry shrugs off Ross’s touch. His hands might as well be fire, something that brands Barry’s skin, threatens to scar him deeper than he’s already been. If Ross touches him, then he’ll burn - not just the surface, but deep inside, heat eating up his core until he’s a hollow husk.

Quicker than Ross can stop him, Barry is out the door, shrugging on his shirt as best he can as he takes the stairs faster and more carelessly than he ever has before, willing back the pain, trying to get his body to save it until he’s safely back inside the comfort of his cabin.

\--

Ross’s mind is a whirlwind. What had happened just now? Everything was fine - it was _perfect_ \- and now…now…well, Ross doesn’t know what they are now besides ruined.

He’s shivering in just his towel, wanting so badly to run after Barry, to explain himself and the situation, to have Barry just _talk to him_. Ross isn’t even dressed and, by the time he is, well, Barry will already be deep within the forest, in his element. If he doesn’t want Ross to find him, well, then Ross won’t be able to.

Ross pads over to his laptop, the e-mail window still pulled up on the screen. Sure enough, the most recent email is from Arin, sent shortly after Ross had talked to him, had asked him to buy the plane tickets so that Ross could go home, could escape from the pain of Barry not talking to him. With he and Barry making up so fast, he hadn’t even remembered asking for the tickets, the thought slipping his mind.

Ross groans, running a hand through his hair, shoving it up off of his head. How had things gone from so good to so bad? Last night had been like a dream, had been everything that Ross had ever wanted with Barry, and now it’s all going to be gone before it had even gotten a chance to properly start.

Ross shakes his head, throwing his towel down and grabbing for the first pair of clothes that he sees in his suitcase. He isn’t going to let it end this way. He has to fix this.

He dresses in record time and rushes downstairs, hoping beyond hope that Barry will by some miracle still be around.

He doesn’t find Barry, but he does find Vernon, who’s beginning to set up the plates for breakfast.

Vernon smiles at Ross. “Hey, good morning.”

“Morning. Um, have you seen Barry?” Ross asks, trying to sound casual as to not raise any suspicions.

Vernon arches an eyebrow. “No? I’d guess that he’s probably just getting around to working.”

Ross nods, distracted, pain settling into him, too familiar to him at this point. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll check around outside, then.”

“Don’t you want breakfast first?” Vernon asks.

“Maybe later,” Ross calls as he tries to casually slip outside to continue to look for Barry. Even as he scans the front yard of the bed and breakfast, he knows that it’s hopeless. If Barry is upset, then he won’t just be hanging around the grounds waiting for Ross to find him. Still, Ross circles the entirety of the bed and breakfast, hoping to catch a glance of him.

An hour later, Ross collapses onto the wide wooden porch swing outside. He runs a hand through his hair, sweating and feeling miserable. It kills him that Barry is hurting, that Barry thinks that Ross would ever trick him, would use him like that. He wishes that he could explain, that they could talk, that he could just find Barry and fucking tell him the truth, but Barry doesn’t even have a cell phone that Ross can text, no way to communicate with him other than Ross seeking him out on foot.

It feels like every time that Ross and Barry take a step forward, something blocks their path, a force standing in front of them prepared to knock them three spaces backward, to undo all of the good that they’d built. Why is this so hard? All that Ross wants is to be with Barry, to be around him, near him, just like they were last night. When Ross was curled into Barry’s arms, it was single-handedly the best sleep that he’d gotten his whole trip.

Ross’s chest prickles and aches. He tips his head back against the hard wood of the swing, letting his eyes fall closed as he uses one sneaker-covered foot to propel himself slowly back and forth, the motion intended to keep his body busy, to distract from the pain that’s settling through every single inch of his body.

\--

Ross skips breakfast and lunch that day. He returns to his room to lie in his bed, shutting his laptop, no longer even able to enjoy the fact that his internet is working now. None of it would bring him comfort the way that Barry once could. The whole fact that this problem exists, that Barry’s upset, weighs heavily on his mind, distracting him. It’s like he can’t focus on anything else until the situation with Barry is resolved.

Ross considers skipping out on dinner, but after foregoing breakfast and having his lunch be a few measly granola bars that he had shoved into his bag at the airport before he left for his trip, he can’t really let himself miss dinner, his hunger winning out over his emotional pain.

Ross can already smell dinner as he takes his usual seat, the one next to him. The one that once belonged to Barry is empty, not that he’s surprised. Vernon and Suzy stroll in with the dishes of food, setting them on the table. Vernon smiles at Ross, but he can’t seem to catch Suzy’s eye. Her hair is a dark wave blocking her face from him as she sets down a dish of bread and butter.

Dinner starts quietly and Ross can notice a slight silence to the room. Vernon is talking to one of the new guests, a younger man who came here in the hopes of doing some fishing and was wanting to know the best places to catch some fish.

Suzy is eating, eyes fixed on her plate or on the walls, her gaze flittering around to the different decorations adorning the dining room. At one point, she must feel Ross’s gaze on her because she lifts her head and finally meets his eyes - and, really, Ross wishes that she hadn’t because her face is cold, eyes hard and like ice when she stares Ross down. If looks could kill, then Ross is sure that he’d be six feet under by this point, and it’s no stretch of his imagination to wonder why she might be pissed at him. No doubt she already knows what happened in the hotel room this morning.

Ross cuts his gaze back to his own plate, a new pain welling up inside of him. He had been comfortable here in the bed and breakfast, had felt like it was something like a second home, a safe haven away from a harsher world, but now he’s losing that piece by piece, starting with Barry and ending with everything else. He hadn’t wanted to go home despite having the tickets ordered - he didn’t want to leave without fixing things with Barry - but maybe it’d be for the best if he did?

At some point during dinner, the door opens and Ross’s heart lifts. There’s only one person he knows who shows up to meals so late and that’s Barry. He watches the doorway, heart beating quickly in his chest. A form passes through the archway between the foyer of the bed and breakfast and the dining room, and just as fast as his heart had raised, it sinks to his feet because the man entering the room isn’t Barry.

It’s also no stranger. Ross recognizes the gray-haired new arrival as the man who he’d spotted talking to Barry once outside of the bed and breakfast, someone who he’d been jealous of. He’d thought the man was a guest, but he’d never seen him again until now.

Vernon looks over at the man and brightens, his smile big and wide. “You made it,” he says sweetly, trying to hide how pleased he is by covering his grin behind his hand.

The graying man slides off a pair of sunglasses, pushing them up to rest on top of his head. He’s wearing a faded blue t-shirt and jeans, his face sporting a rapidly graying beard. The man smiles at Vernon before he strides over to Vernon’s chair, having no shame as his hands hold the back of the intricately designed wood.

“I’m sorry that I’m late,” he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Vernon’s cheek. Vernon lets out a sharp and embarrassed giggle, and the man rolls his eyes.

“It’s okay. You can sit down next to Ross,” Vernon says, motioning towards the seat - Barry’s seat - next to Ross.

His eyes drift over Ross’s face as he smiles and moves to sit next to him.

“Ross, this is Brian.”

Brian offers Ross his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Um, likewise,” Ross says, shaking Brian’s hand.

It makes more sense now why Ross saw Barry talking to Brian, how comfortable they were. Barry already knew Brian. Ross feels bad suddenly for once thinking that Brian was someone Barry was sleeping with - or trying to sleep with. Objectively, he wouldn’t have guessed that Vernon would date someone like Brian, but the way that Vernon’s gaze lingers over Brian as he talks, the way that his eyes are warm and full of fondness, there’s no denying how smitten Vernon is with him.

Ross tries to smile, to engage in conversation. He learns that Brian is a high school science teacher at the small school on the edge of town. He also learns that Brian runs the social media page for the bed and breakfast and sometimes helps Vernon do the books for the place.

Ross is happy for Vernon, but seeing someone else so happy in love only reminds him of his current situation, how he and Barry are hurting and in need of repair. Dinner ends as quietly as it began, with Brian helping Vernon and Suzy clear the table. Ross lingers around after dinner, picking up his own plate and any around him.

Suzy comes back to the table and, for the moment, it’s just the two of them. Ross’s throat is dry, but he knows that he needs to ask, even if she kills him for it.

“Um, Suzy, have you seen Bar -”

Suzy’s eyes practically flash and her head whips up, her gaze hard. “No,” she says, her voice flat, “he’s at home and you don’t get to ask me about him or if he’s okay because you did the one thing that he was the most afraid of you doing.”

“Suzy, I didn’t. He doesn’t understand it isn’t what he -”

Suzy raises a hand to silence him. “Listen, you’re a guest here and a customer and we’re glad to have you, but Barry is my best friend and he will always come first, even over my business. I’m sorry, Ross, but please…don’t ask me about Barry anymore.”

Ross nods, numbness filling him up. Suzy’s eyes flicker over him and she nods like it’s all settled. She picks up another plate, taking the one from Ross’s hands and heading back into the kitchen, leaving Ross all alone.

Ross leaves the dining room, intent on walking back to his room. He stops near the front door. The window that faces outside is still open, the curtains drawn back, and Ross can see the dying sun, the darkness rolling in over the grounds. His eyes scan the face of the mountain path where he’d walked, where Barry had lead him, his gaze instinctively picking out the hint of lamplight that Ross knows is Barry’s cabin, the light nothing but a pinpoint, a speck that Ross might be imagining.

Every part of him wants to make the trek up the trail to Barry’s cabin, like maybe he could remember it if he tried and he could find Barry and fix everything between them, or at least talk to Barry again. As much as Ross wants to explain that Arin is just a friend, is basically Ross’s older brother at this point, he’s also angry, a seeded heat in his stomach because Barry was so quick to think that Ross had lied, that Ross had used him, after all. It hurt that Barry thought so little of his character. He wants Barry to fix that, too, to tell Ross what he really thinks of him.

Realistically, Ross knows that he can’t go to Barry at night. His sense of direction is terrible on its own. Add the twisting, root-knotted path and the thick shade of night and there’s no way that Ross would make it. Plus, Barry had told him before not to go into the thicket of the woods at night if he didn’t have to. Ross wouldn’t be able to fix anything between them if he died out there on the trail.

He reluctantly pads upstairs to his room, mindlessly checks Twitter, sees his fans’ endless tweets asking where he is and if he’s okay. Ross considers tweeting, but he doesn’t have the energy or the will, so he closes his laptop, feeling suddenly sapped of any strength in his body. He closes his eyes, promising himself a small cat nap that turns into real sleep, passing out with his jeans and hoodie still on.

\--

The next day at breakfast, Ross is thankful that Suzy doesn’t seem quite as cold as she’d been the day before. She still barely talks to Ross over their meal, though, and Vernon is surprisingly absent from the table. There are new guests filling the seats, new faces that Ross doesn’t recognize. He longs for the one person who he knows won’t be showing up for the meal.

Ross isn’t allowed to ask Suzy about Barry, a silent barrier between them, but he wants to know if Barry is going to be working on the grounds today, if maybe Ross could talk to him while he works. He knows that he can’t ask her; even if he did, she wouldn’t tell him. Suzy’s loyalty to Barry is strong, reminding Ross a little of his relationship with Arin.

After breakfast, and against his better judgment, Ross goes outside to search for Barry. He checks near the shed, the chopping pallet, around the back of the bed and breakfast, but, just as he was the day before, Barry is nowhere to be found.

Again, Ross faces the thick expanse of woods, staring into the dense greenery, like, if he only wills it hard enough, Barry will stroll out of the mass of trees. Just as he had last night, the idea forms inside of him - if Barry won’t come to him, then he’ll go to Barry.

Ross falters. Clearly, Barry doesn’t want to see him. If he did, then he’d have made himself more visible, would have given Ross a chance. Maybe Ross should let it go…let them be? The more that Ross tries to fix things, the worse they become.

Ross forces himself to go back upstairs to his room. He sits on the bed, clicking back to his e-mail and reading what Arin had sent him. It isn’t Arin’s fault that this happened. Ross doesn’t blame him. He was only doing what Ross had asked of him. Ross isn’t even sure now if he wants to use the tickets. His insides are a storm, a rattling cloud that shakes through him, confusing him. Could he leave without seeing Barry one more time?

The thought is a hot slice of pain through him, but should he stay and only cause them both more trouble and pain? Is there anything that could be saved? Maybe the best thing for Barry would be for Ross to leave, to go home back to his life and pretend that they’d never met, that Ross didn’t know the taste of Barry’s mouth or the feeling of his hands rough on Ross’s skin.

For a long time, Ross lies there, playing out different scenarios in his mind, so many of them ending without anyone being happy, and goes through lunch without a decision being made. Vernon has returned for lunch alongside Brian, the two of them helping Suzy set the table.

There’s a moment before lunch when it’s just Ross and Brian, as Ross had come down early, feeling too stir-crazy to sit in his room any longer.

“You’re with Barry, right?” Brian asks out of the blue, sudden enough that Ross is caught off-guard. Not even Vernon or Suzy had addressed that they specifically knew that Ross and Barry were anything together, but here Brian is, stating it like a fact.

“Um,” Ross says, “yes? Or…maybe.”

“Which is it?” Brian asks, amusement in his voice.

“I’m not sure. It was yes, but right now it’s…”

“Complicated?” Brian offers.

Ross sighs and nods. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Brian strokes a hand over his beard. “That’s a shame. He couldn’t shut up about you the other day when I stopped by and talked to him.”

Ross feels his cheeks flush. “What?”

Brian nods. “He was stupidly smitten. I told him that.”

Ross wants to smile at the thought that Barry had told Brian about him, but he can’t. It hurts more than anything else because he and Barry aren’t alright - not at the moment, at least.

“You like him, too?” Brian asks.

Ross glances at Brian, trying to hide the way that his mouth is tugging down. He doesn’t know this man and he’s not ready to spill his guts to him, but he tries to sum it up as simply as he can, the answer that leaps from his mouth the quickest because it’s the truth.

“I care about Barry a lot.”

Brian nods like he expected that answer. “Then why are you sitting here talking to me when you could be with him?”

Ross almost tells Brian that Barry doesn’t want to see him, almost tells him everything just so that he can have another view, another take on the matter, but he holds back, nodding instead. That’s what he wants. He wants to see Barry.

“Thanks,” Ross says, trying out a smile. It feels odd and foreign on his face.

“Thank me later,” Brian says. “Once everything is all fixed up.”

Ross stills. So Brian does know. Suzy had likely told Vernon and Vernon might have passed it on to Brian, so Brian’s advice is coming from a place of trying to solve Ross’s problem. Even though there’s a problem, Brian still thinks that Ross should go to Barry.

“What if…he doesn’t want to see me?”

“Then he doesn’t want to see you,” Brian says, shrugging. “All that you can do is try, right?”

Ross frowns, but he can’t argue. If he doesn’t try, then this problem might never be solved. It might become worse, but if he does try, then, well, at least that way, good or bad, he’ll have an ending.

Suzy and Vernon sweep into the room carrying trays, Vernon handing off some to Brian so that he can help set them on the table.

Ross is quiet during lunch, but it’s not from not wanting to speak. It’s more from being stuck inside of his mind, pulling at the tangled strings until a decision is clear.

\--

After lunch, Ross bounds upstairs, pulling the backpack that he’d carried on the plane up onto the mattress. He glances out the window, the day a little overcast, gray and cloudy. Soon, it’ll be dark. He swallows and looks back at his bag, too determined to turn back now. He’s made his decision - he has to see Barry.

Despite still having no service, Ross slips his phone into the bag, along with the remaining granola bars that he hadn’t eaten the other day. He realizes quickly that, despite his plans to come on vacation in a forested area, he had packed very little meant to help someone lost in the forest. His bag is light - a water bottle, the granola bars, his phone - but he slings it on his back, anyway, nerves picking at his stomach.

Before he can change his mind, Ross toes on his sneakers and slips out of his room, padding down the stairs with Brian’s words in his mind. _All that he can do is try._

The day outside is slightly breezy, the leaves of the trees surrounding him rustling endlessly, like they can’t settle, like they’re rattlesnakes warning Ross to stay away.

He thinks back to that first day with Barry, how Barry had led him into the woods. The memories are jumbled up in his brain between which path they had taken that led to the secret trail and which had led to Barry’s cabin. Ross can’t remember, having taken both paths only once before now. He sighs, already feeling less confident about trying to make his way to Barry’s cabin on his own. He’s heard stories, watched clips on those news programs, hikers who died simply because they took one step off of the beaten path.

Ross firms up and makes his choice, heading toward the right of the grounds, toward the street, that path, that memory, more brilliant in his mind. He remembers the small section of trees and how he and Barry had dipped under it, how they’d entered the tree-lined path that had almost felt like a tunnel, a cave of dark green. It’s just as beautiful now as it was before, but the woods don’t feel as safe without Barry in front of him, leading the way.

Ross walks slowly over the knotted and uneven trail. Every path looks exactly the same, but Ross tries not to fret, tries not to let fear seize control of his stomach. The forests surrounding the bed and breakfast aren’t too extensive; surely, if he walked far enough in one direction or the other, he’d wind up at Barry’s cabin or back at the bed and breakfast. If worst came to worst, he might just end up back on the main road.

The deeper into the forest that the path takes him, the darker that it gets. The last time that he and Barry had been here, the day was bright, sunbeams working hard to fight through the thick shade provided by the trees. Today, the sun is already hidden by the haze of clouds overhead, so the interior of the woods is dim – not night-dark, but dark enough that Ross has to squint to make out the roots jutting onto the path. All around him, the forest rustles with life - trees moving, animals scurrying, birds and insects making their presence known.

After maybe twenty minutes of walking, Ross can feel the path widening. He looks up to see that it opens to a familiar clearing - the place where he and Barry had settled to rest that first day, the place where Ross had been brave and decided to kiss him and put this whole chain of events into motion. Being here also means that Ross took the wrong path initially and now he’s not really sure how to get to Barry’s cabin.

Ross moves to a tree that he thinks is the one where he and Barry kissed. He leans against it, digging his water out of his bag and taking a long pull from it, glancing around like suddenly the right way will illuminate itself for him. He hadn’t even gone any further down this path with Barry, the two of them having turned back around after the kiss to go back to the bed and breakfast. He could try that, go back and start all over again, though, if he did that, by the time that he set out for Barry’s cabin the second time, it would very likely be dark and Ross might have to put off seeing him another day, which is the last thing that he wants. He plucked up all of his courage now for this. He’s got to do it.

Ross takes a moment to collect his thoughts before pushing off the rough, mossy trunk of the tree, choosing the path in front of him, and continuing to walk. The woods become a lot less familiar to him - not to mention darker - after the clearing. He doesn’t think that he’s been walking for too long - surely not long enough for the sun to be setting - but the further that he walks, the more shadows emerge around him, casting thin, black shapes that wash over him, stretching out onto the trail.

Ross’s stomach tightens with nerves. He’s scared, but he doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to admit that he fucked up, that this was a mistake. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s very possibly lost in the woods. Ross can feel the ground under his feet begin to slope upward, and he makes the slow climb up the path.

There’s the sudden sound of twigs snapping. Really, it could be anything, something as small as a bunny, but all that Ross can conjure up in his imagination are bears, things that could easily pulverize him in the darkened cave of the forest. His heart speeds up, but he tries to remain calm, tries not to panic.

The shadows darken around Ross and the sound of nearby sticks breaking, the loud cracking of wood, signals that something is moving around him. Ross remembers Barry’s warning about being in the woods at night and swallows.

There’s a particularly loud crashing noise and Ross makes a shrill shout and breaks into a run.

It's probably a horrible idea to be running in the unfamiliar section of woods, but Ross would rather not be around whatever is making that sound right about now. He sprints up the current path, breath coming fast from his chest, adrenaline pumping, making his head spin.

The trail in front of him splits off into two paths, one to the left and one to the right. Ross takes the right path and keeps running. He’s going too fast to notice the low-lying branches that jut out into the way of the path until he’s struck by one. Colliding with the branch knocks the wind out of him, making his arm sting, but he doesn’t stop. As he runs, he can feel the warm trickle of blood seeping down near his elbow, the branch likely having cut him.

Ross breaks through a small section of trees and skids to a stop on the path. He nearly cries because there, in front of him, is a golden light breaking through the dark wall of trees. He knows that it must be the tiny lamp in Barry’s window, the light that always stood out to him so many nights before. Ross, chest heaving, jogs towards the light, Barry’s cabin seeming more like a safe haven than an end goal at this point. Ross just wants out of these goddamn woods.

Finally, after what seems like endless walking, Ross breaks through the thin line of trees onto the reedy grass of Barry’s front yard. Barry’s cabin is there, tall and proud and glowing warm in the encroaching darkness. He really must have gotten lost in the woods because the sun is setting around him, true darkness taking hold.

Ross moves quickly across the yard, his arm stinging. He’s out of the woods, but a new fear sets in. What if Barry isn’t home? Or, worse, what if Barry doesn’t want to see him? Won’t let him in? Ross is more scared than worried about what Barry might say, so he rushes forward, knocking on the door with his good arm.

Instantly, he can hear movement from inside of the cabin, the scrape of a chair against the wood floor and then the sound of footsteps. It’s only a few seconds before the door in front of him is tugged open and Barry is standing there, hands braced on the doorframe as he squints at Ross’s darkened form.

Ross can see the moment that recognition sets in and Barry realizes that it’s him.

“Ross?” Barry asks, voice softer than Ross had been expecting.

“Yeah, I…hi,” Ross replies weakly.

“You’re hurt,” Barry says instead of questioning what the hell Ross is doing at his door on the cusp of nightfall.

Ross looks down at his arm, where the persistent stinging is radiating through him. “Ah, I think a branch got me?”

Barry looks Ross over once more before he sighs and steps aside. “Come inside, Ross.”

Ross doesn’t argue, gratefully and quietly slipping into the cabin. He’d been so freaked out that he couldn’t even feel relief at seeing Barry, but now that he’s safely inside of the cabin, the warmth of seeing him begins to fill him, washing away the fear that had been tied so tightly around his chest.

“Here,” Barry says, pulling one of the wooden chairs from the tiny table where he and Ross had once had dinner. “Sit down. Let me look at your arm.”

Ross nods and sits, offering up his wounded arm to Barry. “Am I gonna make it?” he asks.

Despite everything that’s happened between them, Barry cracks a smile. “Looks like a surface wound, mostly.” He touches around the scratch. “Must have been a broken stick that got you.”

“I was running. I didn’t see it.”

“Running? Why?” Barry asks.

Ross flushes, brushing hair out his face. “Something was chasing me…or, well, it sounded like something was chasing me.”

Barry is quiet a moment, a droplet of Ross’s blood dripping to the hard wood of his floor. “Let me take care of this first before I bother asking about that,” he says.

Barry slips away, heading to the bathroom. When he comes back, it’s with some gauze and a washcloth, a brown bottle also tucked under his arm. He sets the materials down on the table and takes Ross’s arm gently in his hands, lifting the wash cloth to dab at Ross’s wound.

“What the hell were you doing in the woods alone, Ross?”

Ross meets Barry’s eyes, scanning his face. Barry must feel his gaze because he looks up from cleaning Ross’s injury, letting their eyes meet.

“I wanted to see you.”

“It’s dangerous in there if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I made it, didn’t I?” Ross says.

“Not in one piece.”

There’s a frown on Barry’s face as he opens the brown bottle and pours some of the strongly scented, clear liquid over the cloth.

“It might sting,” Barry warns.

Ross only has a second to nod before Barry is pressing the cloth to his arm and Ross gasps, sucking in a quick breath. “Fuck!”

After his arm is cleaned, Barry sets to wrapping it in gauze. The movement is fast and practiced, like Barry has done this before. Ross can easily believe that he has. The hero of the bed and breakfast, repairing toasters and patching up arms.

“Look,” Ross says, feeling braver now that his arm is taken care of, “you have to talk to me. You can’t just avoid me forever.”

“I don’t know about that. I was doing pretty well up until you nearly killed yourself to find me.”

“Can we talk about what happened?” Ross asks.

Barry bites his lip, worrying the red skin with his teeth. “Ross, I -”

Barry sounds weary, but Ross shakes his head. “Arin isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Ross -” Barry begins, but Ross has never been good at keeping quiet.

“No, I’m serious. Look.” With his good arm, Ross digs around in his backpack, pulling out his cell phone. He’s quick to unlock it, flipping to his photo gallery and offering the phone to Barry. “He’s not. He’s my best friend. We work together. Arin is happily and very gayly involved with my friend Dan.”

Barry takes the phone, flipping through the pictures of Arin and Dan that Arin can’t help but constantly send to Ross.

He looks up from the phone, meeting Ross’s gaze. “The plane tickets?”

Ross frowns. “I thought that you hated me.”

“I…don’t understand,” Barry says.

Ross sighs as he takes his phone back from Barry and pockets it. “I wanted to leave because you were avoiding me. I ordered them before we talked, before we had sex. I forgot that I asked Arin to get them for me.”

Barry is quiet a moment, his eyes searching Ross before they fall to the floor. “I’m sorry…ah…for accusing you of that stuff. I’m…I’m not so good at this, I guess.”

“Fuck, dude, me, neither. This is all new for me, too,” Ross says.

Barry looks up at him with an arched eyebrow. “It is?”

“Yes! Do you think that I go hiking through woods every day for just any old guy? Don’t answer, because I don’t, but I couldn’t stand one more day of not seeing you, of not fixing this. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I never tried so hard for another person in my entire life and gone through so much goddamn trouble.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry says.

Ross stands, taking a step closer to Barry. He reaches out with his hands to take Barry’s carefully in his own.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just…fuck, Barry, I love you, dude.”

The words hit the air, solid and real, and Ross can’t take them back. They’re like animals, living creatures with wings that float high above their heads. He should be scared, petrified; he should be as afraid as he was out in the woods, but with Barry’s hand in his and Barry’s eyes locked on to his, he can’t seem to be.

Barry’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull away. “You love me?”

Ross nods. “I do, and I know that you’re scared, but I swear to God, I don’t want to hurt you. All I want is to be with you, Bar.”

Barry sighs like he’s weary, like he was waiting for permission to breath, and, slowly, he pushes himself into Ross’s arms. He settles his head on Ross’s shoulder. Ross’s hand finds Barry’s back, running his palm up and down the broad line of it.

Barry presses a kiss to the base of Ross’s throat. “I love you, too, Ross. I have for a while, but we just keep fucking up. We keep breaking each other. What if -”

Ross reaches out and cups Barry’s cheeks, lifting his face so that their eyes meet.

“Someone really handsome and smart once told me that everything is salvageable. Don’t you think that we are, too?”

Barry snorts. “Are you comparing us to a toaster?”

“Maybe,” Ross says. “Is it working?”

“Maybe,” Barry repeats, and he leans in, Ross meeting him halfway so that their mouths catch together in a soft kiss.

Ross’s heart soars in his chest. He’d meant it when he said that he loved Barry. He does. He loves him fully and completely. This man came into his life unexpectedly and now Ross wants nothing more than to keep him there.

Their kiss breaks, and Barry cups Ross’s cheek, his thumb rubbing at Ross’s cheekbone. “The tickets?”

“I’m going to cancel them,” Ross says. “For right now. I don’t think that I’m ready to go home yet.”

Barry nods, and then they’re kissing again, soft and sweet, leaning on each other like their bodies joined together are the only thing keeping them standing.

“I’m sorry,” Barry mutters against Ross’s mouth. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. It was my own fear, my own hang-ups. I was afraid of how much I liked you, ready to run at the first sign of trouble, and -”

“It’s okay,” Ross says, kissing Barry again. “I forgive you. Just…trust me now okay?”

Barry nods, pulling Ross in for a gentle hug, kissing at his neck and then his jaw before lacing their fingers together and leading him to the couch. They sit together, Barry’s arm finding Ross’s shoulders, dragging him in close so that they can resume kissing. Ross smiles against Barry’s mouth, his palm open against Barry’s warm chest.

He finally feels as though the worst is behind them. Communicating will always be a necessity, but now Ross can imagine things being easier between them. Every time they fall apart, neither of them will let go; instead, they’ll come back to build, to repair. He knows now that, whatever obstacle they face, they’ll come back from it. Ross is more than sure of that.

Whether it be the distance between them, the fact that someday, sooner rather than later, Ross will have to go home, or the differences in their lifestyles, Ross knows that, if they try, they’ll get over these obstacles and come out on the other side stronger than before.

\--

“I’ll be at the airport at eight to pick you up,” Ross says.

“Okay,” Barry says over the line. He sounds nervous.

Ross smiles. “You’ll be fine. Planes aren’t so bad.” Barry makes a noncommittal sound on the other end. “Trust me, Bar.”

“I do,” Barry says, clearing his throat. “It’s the plane that I don’t trust.”

“Listen - just remember that, in less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be seeing my beautiful face. Isn’t that enough to make you want to board the plane right now?”

Barry sighs, but Ross is sure that he can hear a smile across the line when Barry speaks. “If you say so.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ross says with a laugh. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Barry says before he hangs up.

Ross pockets his phone before he turns and sees Arin leaning in the doorway of his office, a wide and idiotic smile on his face. “So, Mr. Lumberjack Boyfriend didn’t cancel on you?”

Ross flushes. “No, he didn’t. He’s just a little nervous about the flight.”

Arin sits in Ross’s chair, spinning a little. “Well, we’re excited to meet him. Hope the poor guy doesn’t collapse from culture shock. You said that he’s never left his hometown?”

“No,” Ross says. “He’s never really traveled.”

“And you want to start him out in LA?” Arin snorts. “That’s a death wish.”

Ross rolls his eyes. “Could you be a little more positive? You know, like, ‘Hey, Ross, I know that your long distance boyfriend is flying in to see you for the first time in a month! You must be excited!’”

Arin flicks the hair out his face. “That’s more Dan’s thing.”

“Well,” Ross says, “maybe I’ll have Dan ride with me to the airport tomorrow.”

\--

Bright and early the next morning, Barry’s plane touches down in California. Ross is waiting in the airport, prepared to greet him. His heart is about to burst out his chest. It’s only been a month since he and Barry last saw each other, a month since Ross had to leave the bed and breakfast and come back to California to begin work on the second season of Gameoverse.

He and Barry had agreed to keep dating, to keep trying, and that necessitated traveling. Barry was surprisingly quick to agree to fly out to California; Ross had thought that he’d have to fight with him a little more on it. The thought of Barry being fast to agree to the trip because he missed him warms Ross’s chest.

Ross spots a stream of people exiting the gate and scans the crowd for plaid, for dark hair and sea-colored eyes. Finally, he spots Barry, and his heart jumps in his chest. He can feel a grin split his face, and he raises a hand in the air so that Barry can see him, too.

Ross can see Barry smiling as he approaches him, wearing his typical red plaid. He meets Barry in the middle, pulling him in for a hug. Barry smells like the forest, like the bed and breakfast, and Ross buries his face into Barry’s shoulder to breathe in the familiar scent.

“Missed me that much?” Barry asks.

“You know it,” Ross says, leaning in to press a kiss to Barry’s mouth.

God, he’d missed Barry so much.

Barry is staying in California for two and a half weeks, Suzy and Vernon insisting that the business will be fine without him, encouraging him to go out and have fun and not worry about anything but himself.

Ross laces his fingers with Barry’s and helps him collect his luggage from the rotating carousel.

Once the two of them are in the car, Ross smiles at Barry. “I got you something.”

“You did?” Barry asks, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Ross nods, bending over to dig inside of the bag by his feet before handing a small box off to Barry.

“A cell phone?” Barry asks, inspecting the box.

Ross nods. “Yes, because it sucks that I have to call you on the bed and breakfast phone. You have a boyfriend now; you need to be readily available.”

Barry snorts. “You didn’t have to do that, Ross. It was probably expensive.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles again as he watches Barry open the box and take the slim phone out, tapping at it like a child. “You’ll have plenty of time to learn how to use it while you’re here.”

Barry glances at the phone and then at Ross, and he smiles again, too, something genuine and real. “Thank you, Ross.”

Ross shrugs, but he can feel his cheeks heating up. “Hey, so, are you hungry? Because Holly wants us to meet her for breakfast. After that, we can swing by the studio so that you can see where I work and meet Arin and Dan.”

Barry nods, peering out the window at a landscape foreign to him. It’s Ross’s turn to help Barry navigate the world around them - Ross, who’s now in his element, determined to share as much of it as he can with Barry. “That sounds good,” he says.

As much as Ross loves having Barry here in California, a big part of him still misses the sleepy town in Oregon where the bed and breakfast stands. Ross hasn’t told Arin or Dan or Holly yet - hell, he hasn’t even told Barry yet - but he’s been looking at places back in Oregon, apartments and small houses near the bed and breakfast.

His job allows him some leniency, some opportunities to travel. Ross doesn’t want to move from California, but he thinks that maybe he can split his time between both places. He isn’t ready to cut ties with either state. Maybe one day he will be. Maybe Barry will someday make that decision easier to make.

For now, Ross doesn’t mind calling both places home.


End file.
